Repercussions
by morning sunlight
Summary: Dean and Sam are staying with Pastor Jim. The repercussions of a bit of fun nearly spoil Dean’s one chance at friendship with someone who understands what it is to be a hunter’s son. Can he fix his friendship in time to protect the Pastor & save the day
1. Chapter 1

_**Title : Repercussions**_

_**Author:**_ morning sunlight

_**Artist:**_ theo-winterwood made art for this story. You can see it at livejournal - link from my journal (morning_sunlite).

_**Genre **_: Gen, preseries

_**Rating **_: PG-13+ (for language and refs to violence and death – nothing v. graphic in fic)

_**Characters**_ : Dean (aged 14), Sam (aged 10), Pastor Jim and two OMC

_**Word Count:**_ 31,238

_**Summary** : Dean and Sam are staying with Pastor Jim while John is away hunting. The repercussions of a bit of fun nearly spoil Dean's one chance at friendship with someone who understands what it is to be a hunter's son, constantly moving and changing schools and left alone in motels with no parent and no way to know if the one parent you do have will ever come back alive._

_An escalating series of mishaps mean that Dean needs to work with Sam and his former friend to protect the Pastor. Can he overcome the mistakes he made and retrieve the friendship enough to save the day?_

_**Disclaimer : Neither the Winchesters nor Pastor Jim belong to me.**_

_Thanks to gestaltrose for the beta support.

* * *

_

_**Part One**_

"Jordan!" Dean's voice was anxious. "Jordan, stop! Please!"

"What? I thought you were asleep back there, dude." Jordan laughed without taking his eyes away from the road. He couldn't afford to lose concentration now; the road was slick with rain.

"Jordan, please! Stop the car!" the fourteen-year-old's voice cracked as he pleaded and Jordan laughed again, knowing how much Dean hated the way his voice was breaking and swinging from one pitch to another seemingly at random. He pressed the pedal to the floor and felt the surge of the car beneath him as he sped along the highway towards the Pastor's house, wondering for the first time how he was going to sneak Dean back into the house in this state.

Moments later the sound of retching came from the backseat and Jordan instantly regretted both the sudden increase in speed and not stopping when Dean had asked. He kind of regretted the last beer that he'd let the younger boy have as well but, yeah well, watching Dean flirting with the girls afterwards had still been kind of funny.

"Fuck! Dean, you are cleaning my car, bitch! God, I can't believe you, man," the eighteen year old groaned as he pulled the car over to check on his companion. Dean moaned sorrowfully. As the car stopped, Dean dashed from the car and threw up again at the side of the road.

Jordan peered over the backseat cautiously to see the damage, relieved to see that it was surprisingly small. He looked out at Dean and saw the younger boy had hold of something. He opened the car door and walked round to check on his friend. "You do know it's so not cool to be puking your guts like this. Those girls will not be impressed!"

"Fuck you!" Dean wheezed.

"What have you got in your hand?" Jordan reached to take whatever Dean was holding in a death grip in his hand. Dean started to pull it away only to succumb to another round of retching. "Urgh! Gross! You threw up in a t-shirt . . . a t-shirt, Dean!!! That was _my_ t-shirt!" The disgust changed to indignation.

"Sorry," Dean moaned, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth before clutching at his head and letting out a mournful groan.

"You are going to have to pull yourself together before we get back to the Pastor's, dude, or the shit is really gonna hit the fan." Dean didn't respond, just turned back and headed to the car, collapsing miserably into the backseat.

Jordan settled himself back into the driver's seat and checked back on Dean before pulling out on to the road. "Look, Dean, just rest, I'll drive carefully and say if you need to stop, huh? I will, I promise. Just you know, try and get a grip on your stomach before we get back, please." Jordan knew it was probably asking too much to expect the fourteen-year-old to actually be able to have any real control over his nausea at this point but then Dean was one of a kind. It's not like Jordan would have taken _any _fourteen year old with him on a night out; he had standards after all. For a start he'd elected to take the fourteen-year-old Dean with him, rather than Brandon, even though Brandon was older. Brandon was a jackass and that was being polite. The twenty-year-old was an idiot on a good day and a twisted son of a bitch on the other seven days of the week.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, he pulled up outside the Pastor's house, disappointed to see the downstairs light on. So no luck on the Pastor being in bed and him being able to sneak Dean in without him noticing through the front door and hoping he could get the boy up the stairs and into bed. Turning the car off, Jordan let his head drop back against the seat as he tried to figure out a way to get Dean back in the way they'd come out . . . through their bedroom window. If Dean had been sober, as opposed to almost comatose on the back seat, a quick shimmy up the tree and in would not have been an issue. Sammy probably wouldn't have even rolled over, let alone waking the Pastor at the other end of the hall with Brandon in the room between snoring. Stealth was not an issue with Dean normally, thanks to all of his father's training, although Jordan didn't think this was quite what the great John Winchester had in mind when he had either of his boys training. Even little Sammy, who almost never shut up unless he was asleep, was surprisingly stealthy when the need arose . . . or the urge, as Jordan had discovered last time Sammy had crept up on him making out with Amanda, the older of the Foster girls, behind the church.

The outside light flicked on and Jordan knew that any remaining luck he might have had was currently disappearing into the distance faster than the speed of light. He heard the house door open and turned his head to look across at the stern figure of the Pastor stood framed in the doorway. Yep, his luck had definitely vanished; the only thing that could be worse . . . no . . . now was not the time to even contemplate the possibility of either his own father or even worse Dean's father being inside. Surely even he couldn't be that out of luck.

"Dean!" he whispered hoarsely, hoping the younger boy would pull himself together enough to be able to get them into the house without too much fuss. "Dean!" he said again, more urgently. Nothing – not even a murmur nor a groan nor . . . "Shit! Dean!" he said, turning to look over his shoulder as he saw the Pastor begin to move forward from the doorway.

Nothing, there was not even the slightest reaction from the boy on the backseat who was currently faced down. Jordan's eyes widened in horror and he started clambering furiously over the seat and shaking Dean frantically. "Dean! Wake up, dude! Fuck, please don't be dead!"

As the Pastor pulled the rear door open, Dean finally groaned. "Well, Jordan, what a surprise to see you both here now – I'm certain I saw you both heading upstairs to bed earlier this evening!"

"Umm, yes sir! Dean's not feeling too good right now. I think maybe something we ate at dinner is disagreeing with him!"

The Pastor paused in his attempt to roll Dean over to turn his gaze on the older teenager, who seemed to shrink back under his glowering look. "Really, something we ate at dinner! I find that hard to believe given that the rest of us all seem fine." He paused a moment before adding, "And the fact that it smells like a brewery in here. Is there something else you want to tell me, Jordan?"

The older teenager shook his head slowly and bit his lip.

Pastor Jim turned his focus back to the fourteen year old on the back seat, resisting the urge to laugh at Jordan, knowing that he was busy trying to figure out a way to get himself off the hook, without getting Dean into more trouble. "You'd better get round here and help me get Dean out and upstairs then, hadn't you?"

"Yes sir!" he answered, almost tripping over his own feet in his rush to get out of the car and round to help the Pastor.

"Come on, Dean. Time to get inside and into bed," Jim Murphy said, soothingly to the groaning teen.

"Don't feel so good, Pastor Jim. . ." Dean slurred.

"I'm sure you don't, so let's get you inside and sleeping this off properly and we'll talk about it all tomorrow, you and I, my boy."

"Yeahssssir," he drawled.

Jordan helped the Pastor take Dean's weight and lead him up the steps to the front of the house. They took him through into the kitchen, where Jim could check him over for signs of anything other than intoxication. "Jordan, bring a large glass of water over please," Jim said without looking across at the older boy, who was hovering nervously by the door, "And then you can go and make up the pull-out bed in my room – I shall keep Dean with me for the night rather than have him disturbing Sammy as something tells me, he's not going to have an easy night." Jordan did as he was asked silently.

* * *

He made his way up the stairs, head hanging sorrowfully, thinking back over the evening and how maybe it hadn't been worth it. He'd certainly never intended for Dean to end up this drunk, just more relaxed, a little tipsy even had seemed like it might be fun. His way was blocked as he reached the top of the stairs. Brandon was lounging across the hallway grinning inanely. "Oh dear! Is Jordan feeling sorry for himself?" The young man sneered. "Not in trouble with the Pastor by any chance, are you?"

"What would you know about it, asshole?" Jordan shoved past on his way to the Pastor's room.

"Wonder how the Pastor knew you were out? I knew you were going to meet those girls, so as soon as you'd gone, I went and woke him up and let him know. 'Oh Pastor Jim, you know I don't really want to say this, but I think Jordan is leading young Dean astray!'" he mimicked laughing.

Jordan swung round, pushing Brandon up against the wall, his own superior fitness and training, courtesy of Dean's dad allowing him to shift Brandon's heavier figure. "You are a. . ."

Jordan's words were cut off by the sound of the Pastor's voice, "Jordan! Have you made that bed up yet? Some amongst us would like to try and get some rest tonight!"

"I'm on it, sir," he called back down the stairs, stepping back and letting Brandon go. He walked towards the Pastor's room, turning at the last minute to say, "This isn't over, Brandon. I can wait, don't worry, you haven't got away with it."

Brandon laughed as he headed back to his own room. Jordan sighed and moved to finish the task at hand before heading back down to help the Pastor get Dean up to bed.

* * *

With Dean in bed and asleep again, the Pastor turned his attention fully to Jordan. "Downstairs now! We'll talk about this down there," he said ushering the teenager from the room.

They went into the kitchen and Jordan sat down in his seat at the table, head dropping to rest on his hands. The Pastor walked across to retrieve another large glass of water which he placed in front of Jordan saying, "Drink that," before seating himself at the table and watching. Jordan took a few healthy gulps of the water before the Pastor spoke again, "Where do you want to start?"

"I . . . um . . ."

"Or shall I?" Jordan's eyes closed and he bit his lip, before he lifted his head, opened his eyes to look sorrowfully at the Pastor. "Right, so you have absconded with a minor this evening? You have drunk alcohol under age. That's not even considering where you obtained that liquor! You have helped a minor drink alcohol and become intoxicated. You have driven your car under the influence of alcohol. You have lied . . . have I missed anything?"

"No sir."

"Are you sure, Jordan?" The boy shook his head. "Can I expect any parents of any other minors to turn up at my door tomorrow complaining about the problems you and Dean have caused?"

"No sir. We . . . That's _all_ we did, sir. There was some drink. There were some girls but . . ."

"All! And But! But what, Jordan?"

"We kissed. . . I - I mean . . . Dean kissed one; I kissed another, not each other, sir." The boy flustered. "That's as far as it went, sir, honestly. I mean, there wasn't any . . . you know. . . I wouldn't let Dean do that, sir! The girls brought some of the alcohol, they were drinking their own stuff; I didn't give them ours."

"So you're a mean date then!" The Pastor couldn't resist the jibe, even as he did his best to hide the urge to laugh at the teen. "You wouldn't let Dean do _that_ . . . you mean if you hadn't had Dean with you, you would have done more than kiss the girls and the list of transgressions would have been longer still! Jordan, is that what you're telling me?"

"Um. . . I mean. . . I don't know. . . I'm not sure, it . . . we . . . might have . . . maybe?"

The Pastor stood up quickly and paced away from Jordan, bringing a hand up to his mouth to hide the grin that was fixed there for the moment. Calming himself down again, Jim turned back with a grim mask hiding his humor. "Jordan, I am disappointed in you! I really am! I rely on you when you're here with the younger boys. This evening's events cannot go unpunished; you do realize that, don't you?"

"Yes sir," came the pitiful answer from the boy at the table.

"Right, this is the plan for tomorrow . . . _you_ will have all laundry duties, from collection right through to the pressing of those items which require it. You better hope that Dean isn't ill too often tonight!" He smirked inwardly at the look of torture on Jordan's face. "You will complete your chores and Dean's because thanks to you, he will be in no fit state to do anything tomorrow. And with Dean out of action, you will also find yourself taking care of Sammy for the day . . ."

"Sammy? But . . .?"

"But, Jordan? Did you really want to say something?" Jim asked sternly. The teen shook his head quickly. "I didn't think you did. You will take care of Sammy tomorrow and help him with his chores and his studying as Dean would do normally. As far as Sammy is concerned, your 'story' about Dean having food poisoning isn't going to work. Even Sammy at ten is bright enough to know that when we all ate the same lasagna the likelihood of only Dean being ill is small, so the story will be that Dean has caught a stomach bug and that he is staying in my room so the rest of you don't catch it. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir."

"Now then, as for talking to your father about this . . ."

"My Dad! Oh no!" Jordan groaned.

"And of course, John will need to be told as well . . ." Jim watched gleefully as the torment of his own father finding out what he'd done was replaced by abject horror at the prospect of John Winchester knowing. "I figure we can wait until they return, I think I can deal with the matter until then. There aren't going to be any further incidents of _any_ sort before then, are there?"

"No sir, definitely not sir. Absolutely not, nothing." The boy's assurances rambled on until Jim stopped him.

"Right, well bed then and you'd better make sure you're up early in the morning, because you have a lot to do tomorrow and don't forget about Samuel." Jim watched as Jordan raced from the room, heard him take the stairs two or possibly even more steps at a time and rush up to get to bed. Jim let himself drop back relaxed against the back of the chair and let the smile that had been dying to get out since the boys got home and he knew they were safe sit on his face while he contemplated what Dean's punishment could be. Jordan's was easy. Just having to look after Samuel on his own would have done it, but throwing in Dean's chores and the laundry for good measure just finished it nicely for him. So much for a day off . . . Jordan would find himself busy all day tomorrow and back at his vacation job at the car lot the day after.

* * *

Dean rolled over and groaned as the sunlight glared down straight into his eyes. His head hurt. His stomach hurt. He ached. He felt . . . urgh! He felt terrible. What the hell had happened?

The light was too bright so he screwed his eyes even tighter closed before it occurred to him that that couldn't be right. His bed was the furthest from the window, nearest to the door. His pillow and therefore his head were sheltered from the glare of sunlight through the window by the closet. . . Jordan's bed was by the window . . . Sammy's bed? . . . Sunlight maybe but. . . Dean cracked one eye open to be hit face on by full sunlight glaring through open curtains, almost directly in front of his bed.

Shit! How heavily had he slept that Jordan had managed to shift the beds round without him noticing?! Dad would murder him if he found out, so much for being alert even when he was asleep, always on guard to protect Sammy.

Dean closed his eye again, wincing at the pain in his head as he started to pull the covers over his head. He stopped when he heard Jordan's voice outside shouting, "Aw! No! Sammy, come here, little dude! Don't do that!"

Sammy! Jordan! Shit! Dean rolled over to get his hands underneath him to push himself up. If Sam was up, then Dean should be up, should be . . . getting him breakfast, helping him with his chores and his training. As Dean pushed himself up, the pain in his head escalated and was joined by a very distinct twist in his stomach that made him think of . . . vomit! Urgh! He stilled, hoping the feeling would pass. He waited, counting the seconds before giving up and pushing himself the rest of the way up at speed and heading for the bathroom. He made it just in time, dropping to his knees in front of the toilet in time to throw up.

By the time he'd finished, he accepted the fact that he pretty much felt like Death. He headed for the sink to brush his teeth before eyeing up the shower. Vertical did not seem to be agreeing with him at all this morning and he wasn't convinced that he was up to standing in the shower long enough to feel better.

Maybe if he was ill, the Pastor wouldn't mind if he stayed in bed a little longer. Maybe Jordan wouldn't mind looking after Sammy for a while too. Yeah that sounded like a really good idea. Dean made his way slowly from the bathroom across the hall to his bedroom.

Funny that! He didn't remember closing the door behind him as he'd come out . . . He opened the door and . . . the beds were in their usual place . . . that couldn't be right! Dean remembered the sunlight on his face and stared at his bed in confusion . . . His made bed . . . Dean brought a hand up to massage his sore head as he tried to work out what was going on.

A sudden thought crossed his mind, he'd run to the bathroom . . . he'd run further than he should have needed to run . . .He turned slowly and made his way back to the door to look out into the hallway. Brandon's door was closed but . . . the Pastor's door was open. . . Dean relaxed a fraction. He must have been really ill, that's why he was feeling so awful now and why he was struggling to remember what had happened. He must have slept in the Pastor's room, it had happened before when one of them were ill, the Pastor would put them to sleep in his room so that he could watch over them and to reduce the chances of them passing whatever they'd got to whoever else was staying at the time. It all made sense now.

Feeling easier about it all, Dean made his way carefully down the hall to the Pastor's room, one hand trailing against the wall to help him keep his balance. He went into the room and saw the unmade bed in front of the window and smiled to himself, remembering the panic he'd felt when he thought Jordan had managed to move his bed while he'd slept. He lowered himself back onto the bed and swung his legs up settling back down and pulling the covers up.

He wondered how long he'd been ill. He didn't remember much at all. In fact the last thing he remembered was . . . oh! Fuck! Shit! Fuckity Shit! Shittity Fuck! Drinking beer with Jordan and . . . and oh God! It couldn't be true! He didn't . . . he couldn't have . . . Jordan was never going to let him live it down if he had actually thrown up in the back of the car!

Dean was torn between the urge to pull the covers over his head and hope he died quickly before anyone came and found him or pushing himself up and out of bed and facing the demons head on to find out just how bad the situation was. Had Pastor Jim worked out that he'd been drinking? Oh! Just imagine if he told Dad. Dean gave in and pulled the covers up, closing his eyes and just hoping that the end came quickly.

Moments later he heard Sammy's voice laughing outside the window, "Jordan! No! Put me down! Put me down!"

Okay, so maybe dying right now wasn't such a good idea. Dean couldn't expect Jordan to look after Sammy indefinitely and keep him safe from Brandon and . . . stuff. Dean sighed and pushed the covers down a little until his nose was peeking out into the fresher air but he shifted so that he could throw an arm over his eyes to keep the light out.

Heavy footsteps came up the stairs. . . didn't sound like Pastor Jim, sounded like someone stomping up the stairs in a bad mood and yeah, well, even when the Pastor was pissed, Dean couldn't think of a time when he'd ever stomped up the stairs like that. He could still hear Sammy laughing outside with Jordan so that left . . . Brandon or . . . _Please don't let Dad have come back early!_ Dean thought silently.

The footsteps stopped directly outside the door and Dean held his breath anxiously. All of a sudden, Brandon's voice shouted angrily over the banister, "I don't see why the fuck I should have to do it – if that little shit can't control himself, he should get extra bathroom duties and have to clean up." Pastor Jim's voice came up the stairs in response, apparently not angry, not even all that loud, Dean couldn't make out all the words, something about it was Brandon's turn on bathroom duties regardless of Dean not being well and perhaps something about it wasn't like he was being asked to actually clean up after Dean anyway. Dean cringed. He could imagine the look on Brandon's face, imagine the torture he'd be planning and he really didn't feel up to trying to stand up to the twenty-year-old today. It was a long standing argument and Dean was always grateful for Jordan's help and intervention, even though he wouldn't ask for it. It was important to be strong and self-reliant, that was what Dad always said.

The only reason he wasn't a pile of pulp was the fact that Brandon had no idea how to fight, run or, well basically, anything. His father might be a hunter, but the only part of that that he'd successfully passed onto the idle and obnoxious young man was Brandon's like of violence and seeing weaker and more vulnerable people hurt, Dean and Sam were prime targets for that, and his fondness for guns. But the Pastor was very particular about guns and none of them were allowed to handle guns without the Pastor's direct supervision. If it hadn't been for that fact Dean would have been more worried; he didn't trust Brandon not to shoot him or Jordan in the back just for the hell of it. He figured Sammy was probably safe for now but only because Brandon got enough amusement out of tormenting the young boy until he cried.

All of a sudden, Dean jerked upright to a loud bang on the door. He'd known Brandon wasn't going to be happy but he didn't think anything would really happen until he got up and ventured out of the room. It sounded like Brandon had kicked the door. Dean waited, breath held nervously. He could still hear Jordan and Sammy outside so he was either going to have to manage to deal with this himself or he was going to have to call out for Pastor Jim and that was so much a bad move. One thing he hated doing was going to moan to an adult to sort his problems out.

There wasn't another sound, not even the usual creaking of floorboards as someone walked between the upstairs rooms. He and Jordan had spent ages working out exactly how to cross the hall silently and which of the stairs creaked so they could sneak in and out without being caught. Not that they often used the stairs; on the whole it was quicker and less risky to just climb out of the window of their room. Sam slept soundly so it wasn't like they were going to disturb him.

Dean waited, holding still, counting as the time passed and the seconds turned to minutes. Finally he began to relax; Brandon wasn't patient there was no way he'd still be stood outside the room. He let himself drop back down on the bed, feeling as the nausea swept back over him now the rush of nervous adrenaline had passed. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm himself.

Gradually, he relaxed back into the mattress, letting himself drift back towards sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Part Two**_

Letting himself fall back towards sleep as it turned out was a mistake. Dean vaguely heard the door open quietly; quiet enough that he figured the Pastor had probably come in to check on him and continued to drift in that halfway haze of semi-sleep. It wasn't until he felt fingers close round his throat that he knew he was in trouble.

The pressure was enough to make him aware, not enough to injure or actually impede his breathing. His eyes flicked open, the glare of the sunlight making him squint at the figure looming over him. It didn't take him more than an instant to recognize Brandon and he let his eyes slip closed again in frustration before opening them up and staring angrily at the young man, even as his mind tried furiously to work out how he was going to escape the current situation.

"You have some cleaning to do, bitch!" hissed Brandon. "Now get the fuck up!" he finished as he dragged Dean from the bed. The sudden change in position reactivated Dean's nausea and he clamped a hand over his mouth trying not to actually throw up. "Don't you fucking dare!" Brandon growled as he pulled Dean towards the door.

Dean struggled to get away, trying to free himself from Brandon's intimidating grip. It was all he needed to do; if he could just get away and get downstairs, it would all be fine, Brandon wouldn't try anything if he was in sight of the Pastor.

Struggling was a mistake as it turned out. Alternating between trying to go limp and just resisting Brandon's strength and actively trying to pull himself free, Dean was hopeful that he might actually manage to use the element of surprise to get himself free. Or at least he was until he pulled himself forward and swung round to try and get away from Brandon's grip, only to collide with the doorframe, banging his head hard and making his vision swim.

He felt his legs go weak below him and Brandon let go of his upper body and he slumped to the ground, too dizzy and nauseous to make his escape. He lay on the floor and groaned. "Stupid fuck!" Brandon prodded him with his foot.

He lay still, breathing deeply and trying to calm himself down, get control of his head and stomach. As his vision settled, he put his hands down on the ground to push himself up. As soon as he moved, he felt Brandon's hand hook back under his arm and this time he went without fighting. Brandon stopped at the bathroom door, pushing Dean in ahead of him with the words, "You know what to do," before leaning back to watch Dean.

Dean decided he'd done himself enough damage and as far as Brandon tormenting him went, this was pretty low on the scale and maybe it was easier just to give in and get on with the cleaning. Keeping his head down and moving slowly and cautiously, he retrieved the cleaning supplies from the cupboard below the sink and moved to clean the shower first.

He tuned out Brandon's snide remarks and concentrated just on trying to finish the job at hand without giving into the growing nausea. He heard a creak on the stairs but Brandon continued with his rant showing no signs of having heard anything out of the ordinary. Dean just turned back and continued with the cleaning. He paused concentrating on his breathing again. If he survived today, he was never ever going to drink like that again!

"Brandon?" Dean gulped at the sound of the Pastor's voice but kept his head down and continued scrubbing at an invisible spot in the bottom of the shower. "What exactly is going on here?"

Brandon turned to the Pastor with a smile and said calmly, "Oh hey, Jim. I was just saying to Dean here that he should be in bed not cleaning the bathroom, after all that's my job today, but he insisted. Didn't you, Dean?"

Jim shook his head as he pushed past the older boy. "Go downstairs, Brandon, now! I'll speak to you in a minute. Dean, stop now. Go back to bed."

Dean put down the cloth he'd been cleaning with and started to stand up, wavering as his vision swam until Jim got a hand beneath his arm. "You okay, Dean?"

"Yeah," he replied quietly.

Dean turned to head for the door aware of Brandon still standing there. "Dean, stop!" The Pastor caught the teen's chin and tilted his head up gently, eyeing a red mark above his eyebrow which had begun to swell into an egg. "What happened?"

"Slipped, bumped my head. 's okay now though," Dean said, eyes not meeting the Pastor's.

Jim frowned, then nodded slowly and said, "Track my finger for me." He watched as the boy tracked his finger slowly back and forth. "Okay. Go back to bed for the minute, I'll bring you some ice for that and then we'll talk. Go now!" His voice was gentle but firm and Dean walked past Brandon without making eye-contact again. Jim watched as Dean walked quietly down the hall and back through the open door to the bedroom before turning his attention back to the other occupant of the room. "I told you to go downstairs!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going. Just 'cos the boy wonder doesn't do as you tell him, it isn't my fault!" Brandon sneered.

Jim followed Brandon down to the kitchen, where he snapped, "Sit Down!" Brandon looked up surprised by the sharpness of the tone and did as he'd been told. "That was your job, not Dean's! And don't give me that crap about he wanted to do it!"

"Was his choice. While we're talking about this, I'm too old to have chores. I'm not some kid like them," he nodded his head towards the window through which he could see Jordan and Sammy now sat on the porch with Sam's school homework.

"Too old for chores?" the Pastor said quietly.

"Yeah, I'm not a kid like I said. And I think it's time you took that into consideration."

The Pastor smiled grimly, "By all means, Brandon. You don't want to do chores, that's fine; you don't have to do chores. It's your choice." Brandon smiled as he leant back in his chair, almost preening. Jim continued, "However, if you are not a child, you need to contribute if you are intending staying here. As an adult, I would expect a contribution towards food and board from you."

The Pastor welcomed the look of horror on Brandon's face. "So if you are staying beyond now, we'll agree an amount."

"That's not fair, my Dad's a hunter. You don't charge the other hunters when they stay."

"But you're not a child! So your Dad has nothing to do with this conversation and interestingly enough I've just been speaking to your Dad on the phone." Brandon's eyes widened almost comically. "Yes, slightly different version to the story you told me. I believe he told you to stay at the motel he left you at, I believe you had a job near there and he left you money. That was all somewhat of a surprise after you told me he sent you here because you were injured on your last hunt and he didn't have enough money to leave you in a motel."

"I was . . . injured on the last hunt I went on," Brandon defended.

"Five months ago, you got a little knocked about and a sprained ankle; that was your last hunt, Brandon. Now whilst I would entirely support your decision if you choose not to hunt, you cannot continue to live off of other people if you make that choice. You are only welcome to stay here if you get a job and pay a contribution."

"What about fucking Jordan? What exactly is the difference between me and him, huh? You're quite willing to let him stay."

"Not that it is any of your business, but yes, I am quite willing to have Jordan stay here. Do you really want me to list all the reasons why I am willing to let him stay here and not you?"

"You better have a good set of reasons, because my Dad is not going to stand for this you know?"

"Not only do I have a really good set of reasons, but this is my house and it _is_ my choice who gets to stay here. And as for your Dad, he's quite happy for me to send you out to stand on your own two feet because as far as he is concerned you're not supposed to be here anyway. So, on to Jordan. Firstly, he pulls his weight around here, he's also still in school, he has a job and he does his chores. Oh, and he doesn't pick on the younger boys either."

"No, but he does get them drunk."

"And he's accepted his punishment for that. Now you can get upstairs and get your bag packed and get out of my house." The phone began to ring as Jim spoke and he stood to pick it up. "Go Brandon, now!" He turned his attention to the phone, "Hello, Pastor Murphy speaking." Jim listened to the young woman at the other end of the phone and tapped on the window to get Jordan's attention, gesturing to the phone before replying, "Sure, I'll just get him for you."

As Jordan made it into the kitchen, Jim handed him the phone and taking an ice pack from the freezer headed towards the stairs to check on Brandon packing and Dean. Reaching the top of the stairs, he headed into Brandon's room first. "Here," he said, handing over a piece of paper with an address written on it. "That's the address of the motel your Dad is staying at, he says if you head up to him, he'll sort you out and you can go on the hunt with him."

"I don't want to fucking hunt!" the young man growled.

"Well, you better get your act together and get yourself a job then. Now get packed and get out." Jim pulled his wallet from his pocket and fished out fifty dollars. "There, take that; it's more than enough to get you to your Dad." He turned away and walked towards his own room, leaving the money on the chest of drawers by the door.

Walking in he saw Dean sat up leaning against the wall, looking pale, tired and uncomfortable as he prodded carefully at the edges of the growing bruise on his head. "Here, put this on it," Jim said, holding out the ice pack wrapped in a cloth.

"Thank you and sorry," Dean said quietly.

"Sorry?"

The young teen's chin dropped as he covered the bump with the ice pack and used it as an excuse to shield more of his face. "For the trouble. I didn't mean to cause so much trouble."

"I'm glad to hear it. But what trouble exactly are we talking about?" Jim prompted.

"Sneaking out with Jordan." Jim saw him cautiously peer from under his arm as if looking for a reaction, so he gave a small grunt of acknowledgement but one that implied he was waiting for more. "Staying out late." Jim could feel a grin pulling at his own lips but he waited not allowing it to spread. "Drinking?" Dean's voice was really tentative with that last offering, so Jim decided to accept the apology.

"I expected better of you. So you want to tell me what happened?"

"We met the Foster girls down by the pond, we had a few drinks. I – I don't know what happened I didn't think I'd drunk that much but I felt really sick on the way back," Dean confessed.

"What did you do with the Foster girls?" Jim asked and when he saw Dean flush bright red in embarrassment, he barely managed to mask his laugh as a cough.

"I – I . . ." Dean stuttered and Jim lifted his eyebrows expectantly. Dean's voice dropped to a whisper, "I kissed Emily!"

"You kissed Emily?" Jim allowed a fake hint of shock to tint the words.

"Yeah, she wanted me to do it. Honestly!" Dean said determinedly.

Jim smiled at that, "I believe you Dean. I hope that you never make a girl do anything she doesn't want to. I would be really disappointed in you if you did, because I know you're a better person than that. Having said that, I don't want you doing anything more than kissing her whether she wants it or not. Is that clear? I do not want her parents here complaining."

"I won't, sir. I . . . I mean she's nice enough, but I don't like really like her. She doesn't like Sammy, she's always moaning when I have him with me so I – I don't think I'll be seeing her that much anymore."

"Fair enough. Now about the sneaking out and the drinking . . . you know I'm not happy with that, don't you?"

"Yes sir," Dean nodded sadly.

"So what do you think the punishment should be?" Jim asked and watched as the boy let out a long slow sigh, as he clearly gave the matter some serious thought. Jim waited giving him time to work on it, knowing that Dean never went easy on himself when having to set his own punishment and that if anything he normally ended up having to tone them down for him.

"I – I figure that I should miss the trip to the movies tomorrow night." Jim nodded; it seemed a fair punishment that he should miss out on the week's treat of a trip to the movie theater. "I – I should have to go to all of the services at the church on Sundays while we're here?" Jim couldn't think of much that Dean would like less than being cooped up in the church in the lovely hot summer weather they were experiencing and knew just how much it taxed him to sit still through one service, let alone to subject himself to two every week until they left. "Brandon's leaving?" When Jim nodded, Dean continued, "Then I should have to do his chores too . . . and double the training for Dad, because alcohol will make me fat and lazy."

Jim smiled with affection for the boy in front of him. "I think we should negotiate," he said. "I think it should be yes to missing the trip to the movies although I'm worried about leaving you and Jordan here alone, because I don't think he deserves the trip either!"

"I _promise_ we won't do _anything_ wrong at all!" Dean interrupted emphatically.

"We'll discuss it further with him as well. Church – both services every Sunday until you go, you're saying. I think both services this Sunday and then back to just one from next week will be enough Dean." He could see a wave of almost relief pass over the boy's face. "But I think you should have to participate in the services, I have some readings I will need doing. So each week, you will do a short reading for me." He saw the horror on Dean's face. "We'll practise it beforehand, I'm not expecting you to go in there and read something you haven't had time to practise ahead of time, I'll help you all you need to prepare." Dean nodded, clearly reluctant but Jim figured it would do his self-confidence the world of good to be able to speak in front of strangers. Dean was far quieter than any of the other boys whose fathers brought them for refuge with Jim and much as he had come a huge distance from the silent little boy he had first met almost ten years ago, he still took a back seat and let others have the limelight and at the first sign of trouble would clam up altogether.

"As for Brandon's chores and double the training. I think for three days you can do the extra chores and then we'll split Brandon's chores between us and tomorrow you can do double the training to make up for missing them today, but after that we'll stick with the normal amount because that takes plenty of time when you need to be spending some of that time with Sammy. We can't have Samuel missing out just because you've done something wrong." Jim knew that at the prospect of his brother not being able to do the things he wanted, Dean would cave to the reduction in his punishment.

There was a sudden rush of footsteps on the stairs and just ahead of Jordan bursting through the door to the Pastor's room. "Pastor Jim! Pastor Jim! I need to talk to you! It's important!" the boy exclaimed breathlessly.

The Pastor turned in surprise and took in the red face of the eighteen year old, a cross between fear and anger on his face. The Pastor rose and ushered Jordan back to the door wondering what had the boy so excited. "Let's go into your room to talk, Jordan. Sammy's still on the porch, is he?" When Jordan nodded, the Pastor led the way down the hall to the boys' room.

"So, what's up then, Jordan?"

"Dean! He . . . the drink . . . he . . . I didn't know, I swear I didn't know. I wouldn't have let him if I'd known, I swear I wouldn't."

"What, Jordan? What is it that you wouldn't have done?" The Pastor spoke calmly, still not able to piece together exactly what the problem was.

"On the phone, it was Amanda, Amanda Foster. One of the girls. . ."

"I know who Amanda Foster is, yes, right, amongst other things, she is one of the girls from your excursion last night. Your date, I believe. And what did she want?"

Jordan seemed even more agitated as he spoke, "I swear I didn't know. We went looking for wood to make a fire, me, Dean and Emily, her younger sister, but she stayed with our stuff, you know. . . Well, she thought it was funny, but I had nothing to do with it, I promise. If I'd had any idea. . ."

"Jordan! Get on with it!"

"She . . . she thought it would be funny to spike her sister's and Dean's drinks – she put whiskey in them while we were away. Her sister's been really ill and they've had to take her to hospital because she fell or something and Dean. . . I mean is he going to be okay? God, I wish we'd never gone. It was just supposed to be a couple of beers. I thought he'd be okay with that – I didn't get strong ones or anything!"

"Firstly, put your mind at rest; having survived this far, Dean is going to be fine, not going to be keen on drinking for a while, but absolutely fine. I think he's over the worst although he's just had a bad bang on his head so we'll have to keep an eye on him for that."

"Was it . . . was it because of . . . last night?"

"No, I think it has more to do with Brandon actually, but we haven't really spoken about it, yet. Secondly, I'm glad you came straight to tell me and yes, I do believe you that you had nothing to do with it. Despite your little escapade last night, I do actually trust you to look out for Dean and Sammy. It's nice for all of you to do some things like other kids get to do, but to be honest, I would rather you were upfront with me about it, ask me and let me know where you're going to be and more often than not you'd probably find I'd say yes anyway. I may be a pastor, but I'm not a prude! Although having said that, I don't want you drinking at all if you are going to be driving and as for Dean there is to be _no_ more alcohol at all, even if you can guarantee what's in it!"

"Pastor Jim, I _promise_ we won't have anything to do with the Foster girls again. I've already told her what I think of her joke, but she _still_ thinks it's funny and her sister's in hospital."

"Well, I can't say that I'm sorry to hear you won't be hanging out with Amanda while she still believes that's an okay way to behave. Is Emily going to be okay?"

"She didn't really say. . . I didn't really ask more than once. I just got kinda angry with her when she was laughing and saying how it happened and asking what state Dean was in. I hung up on her in the end, before I said anything else."

"Not the polite thing to do, but then sometimes the occasion will warrant it. Now I want you to get back to Sammy, keep him occupied for me and I'm going back to finish checking on the bump on Dean's head. I'm going to bring him downstairs in a few minutes. I just want to see Brandon off first and he should be almost finished packing."

"He's leaving?"

"He's leaving," the Pastor confirmed.

"Why? I mean, not that I want him to stay or anything but why is he going now?"

"He's going to meet his Dad, he's outstayed his welcome here," the Pastor's voice was placid and disinterested, a tone Jordan hoped he would never hear in relation to himself.

"I'll stay with Sammy until he's gone. Sammy will be pleased, he doesn't like being on his own when Brandon's around."

"I know, and you and Dean do a good job of making sure he isn't, so go and look after him for a bit longer. Thank you."

Jim headed back into Dean's room, immediately lifting the ice pack away from Dean's forehead to check on the bump, he was relieved to see that it didn't seem to have swollen any further. "Keep that on there for now. I'm going to be back in a few minutes and you're going to come downstairs to sit for a while, reassure Sammy that you are on the road to recovery."

"Yes sir," Dean's voice held a hint of reluctance and Jim was sure it was at the thought of his younger and very exuberant brother.

Jim left the room so that he could oversee Brandon's packing and departure. He walked into the older boy's room and saw him sat on the bed with his feet up. "Brandon? I believe you should be packing."

"Nah, I'll stay."

"No, you won't." Jim noticed as he looked round the room that the fifty dollars had been taken. "You will leave now and if you don't hurry with your packing, you will be leaving without your things. That is your only choice."

"What?"

"You're leaving in ten minutes, anything not packed at that stage, I will send on to your father, when I have the time, but I envisage being quite busy with the boys for the next few weeks so there may be some wait."

"You're a fucking pain in the ass, old man."

"Quite possibly, it doesn't however change the fact that you are leaving _my_ house because you are no longer welcome." The Pastor didn't allow Brandon's snide remarks to rile him. He'd dealt with worse over the years than this boy could come up with and really he was quite sorry that Brandon had put them both into this position. He had never wanted to throw anyone out of his house before, but this behavior couldn't continue. Brandon wasn't maturing or taking responsibility for anything and Jim knew he was doing him no favors in allowing him to continue on the path he had chosen.

Jim watched as Brandon began to throw his belongings haphazardly into his bag, offering no reassurances and no apologies. Once Brandon's bag was packed, Jim escorted him down and out the front door, watching as the twenty-year-old climbed into his car and started the engine.

Jim felt a body latch onto his side as Sammy ran up and threw his arms around his waist. Sammy's voice sounded almost joyous as he asked, "Has Brandon gone for good?"

"Yes, Sammy, I think this time he has. I don't think we'll be seeing him again for a long time."

"That's _so_ good. I like it when he isn't here, and it's just us," the youngster added gesturing at both the Pastor and Jordan who was approaching more sedately.

Brandon turned his car around ready to head out on to the road but paused rolling down the window to call out, "You'll be sorry, Jordan. Just remember I'll be seeing your Dad before you now . . . and Dean's!"

Jordan didn't answer and kept his face as a disinterested mask but Jim was close enough to see the anxiety roiling within his eyes. He waited for Brandon to rev up and peel out of the driveway before sending Sammy inside to get the lounge ready so that Dean could come and sit downstairs for a bit. He saw the joy in the young boy's eyes at the thought of being able to see and sit with the brother he idolized, then watched as Sammy turned and raced for the door at full pelt.

"Jordan, hang on," he said to the older boy, drawing his attention back to him. Jordan stopped, his head dropping "I have a proposition for you . . ." Jordan nodded waiting to hear more. "How about I contact your Dad and John before Brandon can get there? I tell them what happened but also tell them how you looked after Dean and got him home after Amanda spiked his drink? I can tell them how you tried to put it right, I can tell them how you have accepted your punishments and how you have been working hard and helping to look after Sam."

He watched as Jordan gave it some thought before clearing his throat nervously. "I could . . . I could . . . do you think I could call, could I tell them? If I tell them what I did wrong, would you . . . would you tell them what I've done right?"

Jim smiled reassuringly at the teenager, as he felt a burst of pride inside him. "I will do that by all means. We could do it in about ten or fifteen minutes once I've got Dean settled with Sammy in front of the TV. That's plenty of time before Brandon can get up to where the hunt is and knowing Brandon he'll take as long as he possibly can without running out of money to get there, hoping that he can't be dragged onto the hunt!"

It took about twenty minutes to get the lounge arranged to Sam's satisfaction and for the Pastor to help Dean downstairs, not allowing him the option of staying in bed any longer. Dean settled himself onto the couch and closed his eyes briefly before opening them to see his younger brother almost vibrating in front of him as Sam stood watching him and trying not to disturb him. "Hey, Sammy. Whatcha doin' there?" Dean asked quietly.

"Checking you're okay, Dean. Are you? Are you okay? Do you need anything? I could fetch something if you needed it. You only need to ask me. I can be helpful and look after you. I don't mind, Dean." Dean smiled as his younger brother's assurances rambled on, he recognized the signs of Sam trying to be quiet as his voice would start at a low pitch and gradually build before he realized and it would drop again.

"Sammy, you wanna come and sit down with me?" Dean patted the couch beside him.

He saw Sam's expression brighten, then fade as he cast a look at the Pastor before shuffling his feet on the spot. "Pastor Jim?" he asked quietly, "Pastor Jim, can I sit with Dean? Can I? I'll be good but I don't want to catch it, is he better enough for me to sit with yet, please?"

"He is, Sammy. You can sit with him, but remember to be quiet and no jumping around; he's not up to that yet!"

Sam beamed as he sat down and shuffled close to his brother, allowing Dean to drape an arm over his shoulder as his own head dropped to tuck in against his brother. "So what do you want on TV, Sam?" Dean asked with an affectionate smile, handing the remote to his brother to choose a channel and settling back to watch some of the cartoons his brother still liked to watch.

Jim looked at Jordan and tilted his head in the direction of the kitchen. The teenager sighed before heading through the door, followed by the Pastor. "I've left you the number by the phone. Do you want me to stay here or will you call me when you want me to talk to them?"

"Are Dean and Sammy okay?" Jim could tell from the tone of Jordan's voice that he was reluctant to tackle the call alone but he equally didn't want to admit that.

"They'll be fine for a while. Dean's not really ill, Jordan, you know that. He's just hung over. Having to manage a little of Sammy's bounce and vitality today will not be doing him any harm and will serve as a reminder why drinking is not a good idea!"

"It's not his fault!" Jordan protested quietly.

"Jordan, you and he made the arrangement to drink, so the potential for this was there. Yes, the lesson was harsher than it should have been and no, that aspect of it was not his fault or yours, but if he hadn't already decided to drink it wouldn't have happened. If he'd been drinking soda, he'd have tasted the change and you'd have worked out about the alcohol and it wouldn't have had this effect. So not all the blame is yours and he is not free of blame, unless you're telling me you pressured him into drinking!"

"No, we planned it together, sir. If he hadn't wanted to do it, I wouldn't have made him."

The Pastor nodded, "I didn't think so, but I'm relieved to hear you say it! The truth, Jordan . . . I remember you doing something similar, getting drunk and ending up sick. . . you did it on your own or rather with some boys from town who left you when you were sick. Fortunately you had the sense to call me and I came to get you. Dean had the sense to pick someone who wasn't going to desert him, so that's good. I'm not stupid; I know that sooner or later most of you are going to try it. I would have liked Dean to have been a bit older when it happened but I'm glad that he had the sense to make sure someone who'd look out for him was there. Next time he thinks of it, you stop him unless he's old enough . . . properly old enough! Clear?"

"Yeah, definitely. I'll make that call now then. . ." Jordan turned to the phone and Jim watched as he slowly picked it up and dialled the number.

* * *

Dean was impressed . . . Sammy had managed to keep still and quiet alongside him for fifteen minutes before he began to fidget. "You want to go outside or something?" Dean asked.

"Nah,'s okay," came the answer.

"You wanna change the channel?"

"Nah." Sam was quiet for a few moments longer before speaking again. "Dean, Pastor Jim said you were sick. Were you?"

"Yeah."

Dean felt as Sam nodded his head where it was laid against his chest. "Was it horrible?"

"Yeah, Sammy, it was horrible. You know I hate being sick."

"Was it gross?"

"Yep, of course it was."

"What color was it?"

"What color was what?" Dean asked baffled.

"The sick?"

"You want to know what color the sick was? Sam!" Dean felt his stomach twitch in consternation at the topic of conversation. "You're the one who's gross. You don't ask questions like that!"

"The boys at school were talking about it . . . they said that if it was really yellow then it tasted like. . ."

"SAM! Cut it out! You want me to be sick again?" Dean pushed Sam away from him as his stomach swirled dangerously.

Sam's face was crestfallen and Dean rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I'm. . . I'm sorry, Dean," Sam said sorrowfully.

"Okay, just please, Sam . . . no more talk about vomit okay? None or I'll be sick and you'll have to clean it up!"

Sam settled back alongside his brother with another mumbled 'Sorry' and a shudder at the thought of having to clear up after Dean.

* * *

Dean spent the rest of the day on the couch resting. Sam made him some toast later in the afternoon and the Pastor brought regular glasses of juice or water insisting that he drank them. Dean hadn't really seen Jordan all day, certainly not to speak to. The older boy had passed through the house but he kept his eyes firmly away from Dean.

Dean could feel his stomach twisting at the thought of having lost Jordan's friendship because he was too immature to manage a couple of beers. He rubbed at his eyes refusing to believe that he'd messed up that much. He was still tired, his stomach was better but not right and his head was pounding. He daren't complain though because he knew he'd gotten off lightly, way too lightly. Jordan was having to pick up the slack and complete Dean's chores along with his own and he had taken Sam outside again, helping encourage the younger boy on his run through the woods. Dean knew that it would probably be driving him nuts, Sam hated running and would moan and whine the whole way without plenty of encouragement and praise to tell him how well he was doing. Combine that with the way Dean would bribe his brother, he'd promise him a game of chess or checkers in the evening before he went to bed. Plus Jordan was taller than Dean and Dean knew how difficult it was to adjust his own running to match Sammy's stride, it would be even worse for Jordan.

Dean sat and waited, interest in the TV lost as he thought guiltily about the previous night. If he hadn't pestered Jordan to take him, none of this would have happened.

* * *

Jordan jogged through the woods beside Sammy, listening to the younger boy panting and shortened his stride again as soon as he realized that Sam was still struggling to keep up. "You're doing really well, Sammy! Keep this up and you'll be better than Dean!" he encouraged.

He saw a glimmer of a smile and saw as Sammy tried to pump his legs harder and faster. "Just keep going steady, Sam, no faster, you're doing fine. Don't burn out too soon, okay? We have to pace ourselves and you're doing great."

He saw as the half way marker of Sam's route came into sight and took a quick look at his watch. "Hey, you're definitely going for a record if you can keep going steadily like this, little dude! We'll have to rub it in to your big brother just how awesome you are when you run with me!"

Jordan felt a distinct tug of guilt pass through him as he thought of Dean lying washed out on the couch all because he'd thought it would be okay to take him with him for a few drinks and to meet some girls. It wasn't enough that he'd never intended for Dean to end up drunk or sick like that, it was still his fault.

His Dad had not been impressed on the phone earlier to put it mildly. He'd told Jordan exactly what he'd thought of his reckless stupidity and how much of a disappointment he was. His Dad was stone cold sober and every word struck right to the core of his heart. When you're responsible for doing a job right, you don't let drink interfere.

Jordan knew his Dad had a problem with drink. It was why they spent so much time with the Winchesters or the Pastor, because that way his Dad felt he'd got an excuse for leaving Jordan so that he could go out drinking. If he didn't abandon his son alone in some dead end motel to go drinking; if he didn't come back to that motel steaming drunk when there was no one else around to look out for his son then he didn't really have a problem. Jordan knew that really the only time his Dad was sober now, truly sober was when he was on a serious hunt, one where lives were in the balance or one where John Winchester had hidden the whiskey.

Did last night mean he was following in his father's footsteps? Had he endangered Dean, endangered himself because he was a budding alcoholic? God! He was really fucking up his life! He was dreading the call he was due to get from John Winchester as well. He'd been out when Jordan had got through and so he'd only spoken to his dad. Jordan knew there was a fifty percent chance that John wouldn't even return the call until the hunt was over. Fuck! He wasn't looking forward to either of them getting back and by the time Brandon had had a chance to exaggerate everything he had done wrong, he'd be lucky if John Winchester didn't just take him out and shoot him in the head!

He hadn't spoken to Dean all day, had been avoiding him, wishing the Pastor had let the younger teenager stay in bed. If the Pastor put Dean back in their room tonight, which he probably would given that all Dean had got was a hangover then Jordan figured it would probably be for the best if he moved down and slept on the couch.

* * *

Dean spent the day quietly on the couch, listening to his brother reading and talking and letting his mind drift back and forth not really following anything. When it was time for Sam to go to bed, Dean said that he would go too, not really wanting to stay around Jordan and the Pastor without Sammy as a distraction. Tomorrow was soon enough to face up to what he'd done.

Jim let Dean go up to bed with Sam, figuring Dean was quiet because he was still feeling fragile. He went up a few minutes after the boys to check they were both fine and saw Dean back in his own room, climbing into bed after having checked on his brother. "I'll see you boys in the morning; we have a busy day ahead tomorrow. Don't we, Dean?"

"Yes sir. I'll be up and ready tomorrow, sir," Dean replied before rolling over to face the wall and closing his eyes.

The Pastor sighed but added, "Good night, Samuel, I'll see you in the morning too."

"Night, Pastor Jim." Sam shuffled further down the bed, pulling the covers higher as he snuggled in for the night.

Back downstairs, Jim saw Jordan chewing on his nails, something he had encouraged the boy to stop, something he only reverted to when he was fretting over something. "Okay, Jordan? Are you worrying about John calling?"

"Yeah, I guess."

The Pastor wasn't convinced by his answer, it sounded like there was more to it. He'd noticed a distance between the two teenagers that he didn't normally see. Despite the age difference, Jordan and Dean had always hit it off well, been supportive of each other. Dean always so much older than his years because of the amount of responsibility he carried for his younger brother seemed to relax when Jordan was around, when Jordan let him just be Dean.

"Jordan, are you and Dean okay? You haven't really spoken to each other this evening, none of the usual chatter. If it weren't for Sammy, I could have been on my own."

"Sorry, sir." The apology sounded genuine although Jordan wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Talk to me about it," the Pastor encouraged.

"I never meant to be that irresponsible. I meant it to be a bit of fun that was all. I didn't mean for anyone to be hurt or for Dean to be ill. It all went so wrong, so out of control."

"Yes, it did rather, didn't it? But Jordan, you didn't back out and abandon Dean when it started to go wrong. You still looked out for him, your decisions at the start of the evening were bad, but I think you've learnt your lesson. You won't make the same mistakes again, will you?"

"No! Never! It won't happen again, he won't ever trust me again."

"I'm sure he will."

"John won't either." Jordan looked up, fear at the prospect of Dean's father's reaction clear in his face.

"John will get over it; I'll make sure of it."

There was a lull in the conversation and Jim turned his attention to the program on the TV. A few minutes later, Jordan broke the silence, "Pastor Jim?" Jim looked across at the boy in the other chair. "I can talk to you, right? You'll be honest with me?"

"Of course, Jordan," Jim reassured.

"Dad . . . he's . . . Dad's an alcoholic, isn't he? I mean he's only really sober when he's hunting on a big job or when he's with John and John won't let him drink . . . so . . . he leaves me with you so he can drink more. That's what's been happening, isn't it? It's why he's not so worried now, because I'm old enough to look out for myself so over the last year it's only because you said I had to finish out school and said I could stay with you."

"Yes, Jordan, but there's more to it than that."

"He drinks because of my brothers, because he didn't manage to save either of them, it's the same reason he hunts. He's thrown away our family, left Mom and the girls because of it all. I get the hunting . . . I do . . . but why the drink? What does that achieve?"

"It helps him forget for a while or at least he thinks it will. At least I would imagine that's why he does it."

"So John, he lost his wife right? He leaves Dean and Sammy, so why doesn't he drink like that?"

"He does, just maybe not so often as your Dad. He has his times when things get too much. In honesty, Jordan, most hunters do . . . it's a fine line they walk in the world, between searching for revenge or oblivion. Most hunters follow this life because of all they have lost."

"So . . . so am I going to be like my Dad? Does what I did yesterday mean I have a problem with drink too? I thought it would be funny."

"No Jordan, yesterday doesn't mean you're going to be an alcoholic or have a problem with alcohol. You still get to make that choice. What yesterday means is that you were being an irresponsible teenager and you got carried away with a prank. That's all. There's no deep meaning there, no hidden future or revealed future if you want to look at it that way. You get to choose now which direction you take your life. You get to choose how much control over your life you let drink have, or hunting for that matter."

The conversation died out and the Pastor could see Jordan thinking over all that had been said as he let his own attention return to the television.

A couple of hours later, Jim told Jordan it was time he went to bed after the previous night's excursion. Jordan nodded and headed for the stairs straightaway with a "Good night, sir."

Jim went to bed not long after. He had not long turned out his light when he heard a creak on the floorboards outside in the hall. He lay quietly and waited for the click of the bathroom door closing behind one of the boys but it didn't come. Instead he heard one of the stairs creak and then another lower down. He waited again. Maybe one of the boys had got up for a drink of water.

Ten minutes later and there had been no sign of anyone returning, so Jim flicked his bedside light on and pulling on his robe, he made his way across the room and down the stairs. Reaching the lounge he could make out a figure lying on the couch wrapped under a blanket.

"Okay, Jordan. What's up? What are you doing down here when you have a perfectly good bed upstairs?"

"Couldn't sleep, didn't want to disturb Dean and Sam."

Jim sat down on the chair closest to Jordan's head with a sigh. "You want to sleep in the other room now Brandon's gone?"

"No sir."

Jim pondered what to say next for a few moments, until Jordan began to shuffle restlessly on the couch. It was Jordan who broke the silence, "I didn't mean to wake you up or anything."

"I know that, Jordan. Let me ask you something though . . . have you spoken to Dean today and I mean properly talked to him, not the 'here's the drink the Pastor told me to give you' type conversations?"

Jordan turned away before muttering, "Not so much, no."

"Why not?" the Pastor queried.

"I . . . um. . . didn't really have anything much to talk to him about."

The Pastor let his head fall back against the cushion behind him before beginning to speak. "You know I was pleased at the way you looked after Samuel this morning. You did well. I know you don't find it as easy as Dean does or as easy as hanging out with Dean, but not only did you manage to get him through the morning and through his training and his homework but you also managed to keep his mind occupied so that he didn't worry too much about Dean. You know what they're both like for worrying about each other."

"He was okay today and . . . and it's easier when Brandon's around because he hates to be on his own then. Brandon's always trying to get him on his own to bully him."

"I know. I've done my best to keep Brandon out of the way when both of the younger boys are here, and when I can't keep him out of the way, I try to keep watch over either him or the boys but it's not always easy. He's gone now though, so things should be easier all round." The Pastor watched Jordan for a while before adding, "You should go back up to bed. There is no point in suffering a night on that couch when you can sleep upstairs. How are you going to fix everything with Dean, if you won't even talk to him or be in the same room as him?"

"Just tonight, Pastor Jim, please?"

The Pastor shook his sadly, "You sleep where you want, Jordan. I'm not going to make you go back in with the boys. The other room is empty if you want it. I'm going to bed now, I shall see you in the morning. You know where I am if you need anything before then."

"Yes sir," came the quiet answer.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Part Three**_

The morning dawned bright and dry and Dean was awake before Sam. He sat up relieved to feel so much better than the previous day. He looked across at where his younger brother was snuggled into a tight ball with a pillow pulled in close to his chest. No sign of Sammy waking up which meant that Dean could head into the bathroom and try to get rid of the last vestiges of the previous day's torments.

As he rose, he noticed Jordan's bed was empty and felt a wave of guilt shiver through him. The three of them had always shared a room at Pastor Jim's even when the other room was empty. Dean's mess up had ruined it all, and now the older boy wouldn't even be able to bear to share a room with them. He gnawed on the edge of his thumb as he crossed the hall to the bathroom to take a shower.

Coming out of the bathroom ten minutes later, he saw that the door to what had been Brandon's room was open, the bed empty, which meant that Jordan was already up. Dean walked back into his room and took a look at the time on the alarm clock. It was still early, he didn't need to wake Sam up yet. He could go and make a start on his chores, particularly as he had Brandon's to do as well. He'd start with the ones outside the house, the ones where he would run the least risk of bumping into Jordan. It would be easier when the Pastor and Sammy were up, he could use them as a distraction to avoid him needing to be with Jordan. At least that would give him a bit more time to work out how to make it up to Jordan.

He crept downstairs, carefully avoiding the creaking steps before sneaking past the kitchen and through into the lounge so that he could head for the back door without being seen. As he slid past the couch, he barely contained a gasp of surprise as there was movement beside him. Glancing over the back of the seat, he made out Jordan's figure asleep on the couch and giving up all attempts at sneaking, he dived for the back door and headed out to the far end of Pastor Jim's garden with tears threatening to fall. He'd messed up so bad that Jordan would prefer to sleep on the couch than in the same room as him. He had no idea how he could fix this. Jordan was his only friend outside family, the only person who knew what their life was like, the only person he didn't have to keep secrets from and he'd messed it all up.

* * *

The back door banged waking Jordan up with a start. He looked round startled, trying to work out what had woken him. The door banged a second time more gently; just a drift in the breeze and Jordan stood up to close it properly wondering why it was open. He looked at his watch. It was a little early for the Pastor to be up unless . . . no, Jordan was sure he would have heard if the phone had rung. He looked out of the window and saw the unmistakeable figure of Dean disappearing behind the shed at the far end of the garden.

He wished that was the surprise it should have been, but he knew Dean didn't sleep well when he was anxious or upset. He'd known the younger boy long enough to know how seriously he took everything. Dean was probably down there now, fretting about what punishment his Dad would impose when he returned and that just wasn't fair because it was Jordan's fault that Dean had been in that situation.

Jordan turned away from the window and headed back to the couch where he slumped down dejectedly and tried to figure out how he could divert John's attention from Dean and make sure he got the punishment that was rightfully his. Moments later, he pulled himself up and headed upstairs to take a shower, that way he could get a head start on the day's chores and make sure he helped out a bit more before he went to work.

* * *

Jim had heard Dean get up and had pondered whether to go and speak to him and check he was okay but then he heard him go downstairs and thought maybe he and Jordan would talk and get past their current reservations. When he heard Jordan come up the stairs a few minutes later and head into the bathroom, he knew that the two boys hadn't spoken yet. He moved across to look out of the window, not surprised to see Dean at the far end of the garden, already digging the vegetable patch. If he didn't know that it took a lot to make Dean cry, he would suspect that that was what the boy was doing judging by the way he kept wiping his hand across his face.

Pulling on some clothes, Jim headed downstairs to start breakfast, knowing that would bring all three boys to the kitchen rapidly.

Jim couldn't fail to feel disappointed when only Sammy was enticed into the kitchen by the smell of cooking bacon. "Morning, Pastor Jim," the ten-year-old yawned. "Have you seen Dean? He wasn't there when I woke up and nor was Jordan."

"Dean is out in the garden and last I heard I think Jordan was in the shower. Do you want to give them both a shout for me? Tell them their breakfast is ready. Thank you Sam." He smiled as the ten year old dashed out of the room and pounded up the stairs to knock on the bathroom door and let Jordan know it was time he hurried up.

Jim figured there was no element of surprise to worry about; Jordan wasn't going to cut himself shaving when Sam knocked on the door because he'd made so much noise on his run up the stairs. A few moments passed before Sam's footsteps could be heard thundering back down the stairs and across the lounge towards the back door. The door opened and he shouted from the back porch across the garden to his brother.

Jim heard the door close and Sam call again, his expression changing from his usual enthusiasm to carrying a note of concern. Jim moved to the window that allowed him to see the vegetable garden and looking out he saw Dean and Sam in close conversation now, Sam was clearly agitated by something and Dean just looked tired but clearly had no intention of giving way on whatever the two of them were arguing about. A moment later and Sam turned angrily back and ran towards the door.

Appearing in the kitchen seconds later, Sam threw himself on to his chair at the table and dropped his head onto his hands. "Everything okay, Sammy?"

"I'm Sam, I've grown up now!" Sam said with a hint of petulance.

The Pastor smiled, "Sorry Sam. Is everything okay?"

"Dean's a jerk. He says he's not coming in for breakfast because he's not hungry and that when he's done the garden he's going for a run and he'll see me afterwards. I told him. . . I told him Dad says you have to have breakfast otherwise you're no good for the day. He just told me to f. . . go away!" Jim could recognize the quick change in what Sam had been about to say.

"I'll go and speak to him in a minute. You're right, your Dad does say you should have breakfast to set you up for the day. Just be patient with Dean, remember he wasn't very well yesterday."

"Oh, I didn't think about that!" Jim saw a look of chagrin cross his young features.

"It's okay, Sam. He should have some breakfast because he didn't eat much yesterday. You're just looking out for him, just as you should. He's your big brother. It's good that you keep a check on him."

"He just thinks I'm a pain in the ass."

"No, he doesn't, not really, Sam. He's just not in the best of moods today. You know how much he loves spending time with you usually. Not many big brothers would, you know. So you have to let him have his moments to be a moody teenager at times, it goes with the territory I'm afraid."

"Yeah? Dad told him off before we came here for moaning about me all the time, told him to pull himself together and stop acting like a girl." Sam's attention turned to the plate the Pastor set before him.

"So was Jordan on his way?"

"He said he was finishing shaving and then he had to get dressed for work and he'd be down. You know sometimes I think it would be cool to have Jordan as my brother instead of Dean. He's way cooler than Dean, it was fun yesterday." Jim looked up in time to see the figure standing behind Sam, just before it vanished back through the door, leaving the back door to swing shut with a bang.

Jim winced as he imagined the feelings that would be racing through Dean having heard his younger brother's words. He put the piece of bacon he had in the tongs on Jordan's plate and put it under the grill. "Finish your breakfast, Sammy and when Jordan comes down tell him his is here. I'll be back in a few minutes." With that the Pastor hurried from the room and out of the house in pursuit of Dean. He was relieved to find him behind the garden shed, sitting on a log with his knees drawn up tight to his chest, gnawing on the side of his thumb anxiously. "Dean? He didn't really mean that you know. It was just the novelty of yesterday; Jordan wouldn't be able to keep it up like you do. You're the best big brother Sammy could have."

Dean shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again and blinking rapidly trying to disperse the tears that the Pastor could see threatening. "It's going to be okay, by the time today's over, Sam will think you're the greatest again."

"I've fucked it all up. He's right, Jordan would be a better brother than I am."

"No, he wouldn't. It isn't possible. There is nothing you wouldn't do for him."

"He was telling you the truth, Dad and I, we . . . we did have words. I said I was sick of looking out for Sammy all the time. I said I wanted to be like the other kids at school. Dad told me I was a selfish son of a bitch. I really upset Sam but I didn't mean it, I was just pissed off. I – I never get anything right, I mess it all up. I've fucked it up with Sam and with Jordan and Dad's going to be so pissed when he gets back. How do I fix it, Pastor Jim?"

"You fix it by coming in and having breakfast with us and by spending some time having fun today with Sam. Then maybe when Jordan gets home tonight the three of you could shoot some hoops or play some baseball in the garden. I'll give you a hand when your Dad gets back and that will all smooth over in time too." The Pastor stood up and turning back to the house finished with, "I'll see you inside in a few minutes."

hr

Jordan didn't return to the house as soon as his shift had finished. Instead he took a drive round in his Chevelle and tried to figure out what he should do. He had contemplated telling them at work that he wouldn't be back and heading up to join his Dad on the hunt. It wasn't that he wanted to be there or even that his Dad or John would consider him fit enough to join them. He had been increasing his training, building his fitness back up since he had broken his ankle earlier in the year but he wasn't back on form yet.

The real question though was whether he wanted to face John Winchester any earlier than absolutely necessary. He had then contemplated calling Bobby and seeing if he could head down and join him and spend the summer working there, but then again Bobby always asked questions. He wasn't going to be sneaking in there to hide from his problems here or from John Winchester. Whatever Bobby's feelings on John Winchester were and that depended on the day of the week, one thing was clear Bobby would not be happy about what had happened with Dean. In fact Jordan strongly suspected that his reaction was likely to be only just short of John Winchester's.

An hour and a half later, Jordan decided he couldn't put off his return any longer and so he turned the car back in the direction of the Pastor's house and driving as slowly as he could made his way back.

* * *

Dean and Sam had been shooting hoops for almost three quarters of an hour when they heard the sound of the Chevelle pulling up in front of the house. Dean stopped short and Sam ran past him gleefully throwing the ball at the undefended hoop. "Yes!" he shouted as it went through. "I rock!"

"Yeah, course you do, Sammy."

"Sam! I've told you I'm not a kid!"

"Sorry," Dean answered, barely registering the increasingly familiar response.

Sam stuck his tongue out, kind of hoping for some of the normal retaliation from his older brother. Not that Dean had been himself really all day. Sam knew he'd been getting away with things his brother usually was really strict about and that he'd taken advantage of it as much as he could. He emphasized the face he was pulling even further. It didn't really make sense to Sam. Under normal circumstances Dean was okay, not bad on the big brother chart of how truly awful big brothers could be, of that he was certain. He was also a whole heap cooler than Dad, way better than Brandon, easier to run rings round than Bobby, more patient than Jordan most of the time, although Jordan had been cool the previous day when Dean was ill. Today though Dean had just been . . . different all day. Anything Sam had wanted he'd got, on the ifirst/i time of asking, without needing to resort to whining or cajoling or even blackmail! He hadn't snapped once, hadn't refused to do anything, even stuff he normally hated. Sam had even managed to talk Dean into helping with his chores while he watched the Thundercats on TV, which had been working fine until the Pastor had realized what was happening and had sent Dean to do his own chores, saying firmly that he would supervise Sam.

Sam had then had to listen to a long lecture from the Pastor, while he'd polished the church candlesticks, on how he shouldn't take advantage of Dean's kindness and patience and that he should not under any circumstances treat his brother so very badly. Sam had pouted and tried to point out that Dean hadn't at any point objected to cleaning the candlesticks for him so he couldn't have been taking advantage. The Pastor had just reached for an extra silver collection platter and added that to Sam's pile and said that Sam knew exactly what he meant and he had to stop it immediately. Dean had made it up to him later though, by not making him run the whole of his training route.

"I bet I could beat Jordan too!" Sam said, excitedly. "I am awesome!" Sam frowned as he saw an expression he couldn't quite make out pass over his brother's face before Dean had nodded and moved away to go inside. "Where are you going?" he'd asked confused.

"Give you some space with Jordan, I'll go and help the Pastor with dinner," Dean had said quietly, his gaze intent on the door to the kitchen.

Sam watched as his brother walked away, before turning his attention back to Jordan who had taken ages to climb out of the car. Sam raced down to meet him as the young man stood up to his full height, "Jordan! Jordan! I totally rock! I beat Dean at shooting hoops! Wanna play? Dean's gone in to help the Pastor."

Jordan looked anxiously up towards the kitchen window, before returning his full attention to Sam, "Sure thing, Sammy."

"It's SAM! I'm not a kid anymore! What is it with you and Dean? Can't you remember it?"

"'k shrimp! Keep your panties on!" Sam screwed up his nose in disgust before flouncing back over to the hoop and retrieving the ball, hurling at Jordan with all the force he could muster. Jordan began a lazy bounce back and forth between left and right, feinting left and right before returning to the same spot until Sam growled and Jordan made an intentional slip allowing the younger boy to tackle and gain the ball before racing to shoot. "Not bad, not bad," he grinned. "Now we play for real!"

The Pastor looked up as the door creaked and Dean came through, head down and shoulders drooping. "Dean, you okay?"

"I'm fine, just thought I could give you a hand with dinner."

Jim smiled, "Thank you. It's much appreciated but doesn't Sammy need you? Weren't the two of you shooting hoops?"

"He wants to play with Jordan now, not me. I can watch him through the window and make sure he's okay."

Jim put down the knife he was using to peel potatoes and walked across to Dean, encouraging the boy to sit down at the table. "I think we need to talk about Sammy, Dean. . ."

"I told him I didn't mind doing the candlesticks – that wasn't his fault," Dean defended.

"Dean," Jim sighed. "This is about more than just the candlesticks, but now you've brought them up that's as good a place as any for us to start. That was your brother's job, not yours. Sam is old enough to have some responsibilities of his own and not just to expect you to do everything for him."

"He's only little," Dean began.

"He's ten, Dean. By the time you were ten . . ."

"That's different," Dean interrupted before the Pastor could continue. "Anyway, you were always telling Dad that I shouldn't be doing the things I was."

Jim smiled wryly, aware very much of the truth in Dean's words. "There is a world of difference between being ten and being left to look after a six year old, and to cook and clean and shop alone. We are talking about polishing a few candlesticks for an hour, or two if he doesn't concentrate. Sam needs to learn that he can't go through life expecting his big brother to do everything for him, he needs to be prepared for life as an adult." The Pastor nodded decisively as he finished speaking to emphasize the point.

Dean frowned before adding, "What's polishing candlesticks got to do with anything? You're the only person, apart from crumbly oldies who does stuff like that! I don't think Sam's gonna be a Pastor when he grows up, you know!"

Jim laughed, "It's about learning that there are things that have to be done, other than just playing and doing what you want. The specifics are unimportant. Now I'm fine with dinner if you want to go and join Sam and Jordan. I'll call you if I need your help."

Dean sighed, then said quietly, "I'd like to help you . . . please."

"No Dean, I want you outside in the fresh air with Sam and Jordan. It won't be for long because I'll be serving up soon." Dean nodded and stood, heading back to the door. The Pastor went back to his preparations.

He didn't look out of the window again until it was time to call the boys to come inside and get washed up ready to eat. Jordan and Sam were still passing the ball back and forth but there was no immediate sign of Dean. Jim frowned and headed for the door to go in search of Dean.

He didn't take much finding for as soon as the Pastor opened the door, Dean looked up from where he was sitting on the top step of the porch. He looked instantly guilty and Jim didn't have it in his heart to scold him, just sat down beside him quietly and waited.

It didn't take long for Dean to make eye contact and then say, "I'm sorry. I know what you told me to do but . . . they were okay, they didn't need me."

"We all need you, Dean. They both need you, maybe not to shoot hoops, but Jordan doesn't have another friend like you and Sam, well, where would he be without his big brother! You just have to put yourself back in the game, Dean. You sit here and they think you don't want to be with them, that you want to be left alone."

Dean's eyes were huge and horrified as he said, "I don't – I don't want to be left alone."

* * *

The days passed and Jim was at his wit's end, how Jordan and Dean were managing to avoid speaking to each other so consistently without directly disobeying anything they were asked to do was beyond him. The frightening thing about it was just how well they were able to function as a team without the need to talk, how fine-tuned they were. He almost wished that it was a good thing, but as he watched the boys he knew it was anything but. Not only were both boys exhausted and emotionally drained, it showed a side of both of their characters that shouldn't be there, the ability to soldier on, work through their own hurt and ignore their own needs. Both boys were too used to looking after other people, to accustomed to giving up on their own wishes and sacrificing everything. Dean looked out constantly for his brother and father and Jordan's position was little better, no younger brother, but a father who was rarely sober these days. One of the things they'd had to count on had been each other and that in part was what was sad about this current situation, neither of them would dream of letting the other down by not pulling his weight, neither would abandon the other to complete a task alone, neither would accuse the other of being to blame for their predicament, and so they didn't talk but they didn't argue and clear the air either as each attempted to take on the blame themselves and the guilt and self-reproach piled higher.

And Sam . . . the younger boy seemed confused, baffled by the turn of events, but definitely wily enough to use it to his own advantage. He clearly felt disturbed by the unhappiness of both older boys and had made innumerable attempts to get them together but that was interspersed with him taking advantage of the situation. Jim had threatened all three of them with a month's worth of helping out the elderly ladies at the twice weekly coffee morning if he caught either of the older boys doing Sam's chores, cutting back on Sam's training or stealing cookies or anything else for him.

More worryingly, Jim had come down three consecutive mornings to find one or more flat tires on both his and Jordan's car. On the fourth morning, he'd found three dead rabbits piled on the porch steps. He was relieved that he was the first up and could dispose of them without any of the boys knowing. He didn't want any of them worrying. They already knew about the tires and without a word, Dean and Jordan had pumped up all the deflated tires together each morning. Dean hadn't baulked at the prospect of helping re-inflate Jordan's tires as well as the Pastor's, in fact the previous morning had led to the only voluntary words passed between them. "Let's do yours first, then the Pastor's so you can get to work on time. I can always finish the Pastor's after you've gone if we don't get done in time."

"Only if you're sure, Dean. It's not fair on you. I'm not trying to get out of helping."

"I know. But you've got to make it to work on time so it's okay." They'd left it at that each of them taking one of the foot pumps and beginning to work on a tire each.

* * *

The Pastor had taken the two younger boys out to do the shopping. They'd been gone for two hours and when they got back, the Pastor was horrified to find paint had been thrown over the front of the house, the front garden trashed and the fencing damaged. He'd paused a moment before entering the drive. Dean had gasped in shock, Sam too engrossed in the book he was reading to have noticed anything and only Dean's gasp drawing his attention upward, whereupon he'd exclaimed, "Fuck!"

"Sam!" Dean had rounded on his younger brother. "Don't say things like that."

"Sorry Dean. Sorry Pastor Jim." Sam had sounded genuinely sorry for the slip. "Who did that? And why would they do something like that?"

"I don't know, Sammy. I really don't know." Both boys had heard the clear note of hurt in the Pastor's voice, but neither had said anything more. As he'd parked the car, he'd turned and said calmly, "I'd like you both to just wait here for me, until I've checked the house out, okay?"

"We aren't afraid, sir. We can come with you and help you check it all over."

Jim smiled at Dean's assurance, "It's not about me thinking you're afraid, Dean. I just want to make sure there isn't anyone still here. I don't want either of you getting hurt."

"We can help," Sam said, full of child-like self-assurance.

"I'm sure, but please, I'm asking you both to stay here."

Dean had nodded and replied, "Yes sir," and when Sam made as if to object, he'd stopped him and repeated the Pastor's instruction with a simple, "The Pastor wants us to stay here Sam, so that's what we do." Sam's protest had subsided with a shrug.

It didn't take the Pastor long to establish that there were no intruders and that the paint was the total damage, so he was soon back at the car to tell the boys that they could come out and join him. Dean immediately headed to the damaged area, whilst Sam hung by the Pastor's side. Dean paced the length of the paint strewn walls and windows, eyes narrowing as he surveyed the damage.

He turned back, his expression grim as he asked, "Can we clear it up?"

Jim Murphy smiled, "I think we probably can, Dean, yes, but it's going to take us a bit of time to get it all fixed." Jim guided the boys inside, as he began to outline what they could do and what they would need, sending them both off to change into their oldest clothes. By the time the boys had changed and were back downstairs, Jim had got together the first of the cleaning supplies and was able to direct the boys to start.

* * *

When Jordan pulled up outside the Pastor's house, he was amazed to see the Pastor, Dean and Sam scrubbing away paint from the windows, doors and walls at the front. All three looked exhausted but they were smiling and laughing about the progress they were making. Sam saw him first, Dean too distracted by balancing at the top of a ladder to be paying much attention and the Pastor scrubbing hard at full stretch.

"Jordan!" Sam called. "You're back! You can come and help us too! Look what someone did to the house while we were out with the Pastor!" The young boy's voice sounded horrified, rightfully so in Jordan's opinion. He couldn't believe the amount of vandalism that the Pastor had been experiencing lately.

Dean turned his head at Sam's shout and his eyes met Jordan's. Jordan felt his own stomach churn as he watched Dean's expression close off, the smile vanish and his eyes slide away as Jordan approached. It hurt, he missed Dean's company, missed his friend, missed having someone to moan about his day at work, missed being able to show Dean the new things he had learnt as they worked on the Chevelle together in the evening, missed having someone to run with. He hated the way things were at the minute and wished he knew how to fix it.

Jordan hated the fact that the situation between himself and Dean had led to him taking the Pastor's advice and moving into Brandon's room. He hated it in there, wished he could move back in with the other boys. He'd never felt so alone with so many people around him. He climbed the steps to the porch slowly. "Looks like it's keeping you busy there, Sammy," he began. "I'll just go take my stuff in and then I'll come back and help you all," he directed the comment to the Pastor, but his eyes didn't leave Dean, wishing that his friend would meet his eye, would smile and let everything be behind them.

"Take a few minutes, Jordan. I'm sure you've had a busy day," the Pastor reassured. "There'll still be plenty of work for you when you do get down," he finished with a wry smile, "But help is appreciated and training runs are off for the day!"

* * *

The door snapped to behind Jordan as he disappeared into the house with his backpack. Dean scrubbed more ferociously than ever at the paint above the window. Jordan hadn't made any attempt to even acknowledge his existence. He chatted to Sammy and the Pastor but he'd blatantly ignored Dean. Dean hated the distance between them, hated the way he was struggling to sleep at night in a way that was totally unfamiliar with how he normally felt at the Pastor's. This was the one place in his world that he felt like he didn't have to be on guard all the time. He could still be cautious but he had always felt that the Pastor and Jordan would have his back, even when Brandon was staying, it wasn't like being abandoned by his Dad in a motel to look after Sam and just hope that Dad would come back when he said. Here he always felt . . . optimistic that things would be okay. Or rather, he _had_ always felt optimistic, until he'd ruined it all the other night.

* * *

The Pastor called a halt to the cleaning as dusk fell, praising all three boys for their efforts and assuring them that he appreciated their help. "Inside and wash up, all of you!" he said. "As a treat, I think we can call for take-out tonight. So boys, any preferences?"

He smiled as he watched Dean make sure that Sam cleaned off as much of the paint from himself as possible outside rather than trailing it through the house. The younger boys had then headed upstairs where Dean had sent Sam through for his shower, before changing into his running gear and heading back downstairs only to be met at the bottom of the stairs by Jim who was frowning in disapproval. "No! Back upstairs now and as soon as Sammy is out of the shower, you get in. You've done enough hard work today helping me, you are not going out running tonight." The Pastor had cut off Dean's attempts to change his mind, until the teen had turned and walked slowly back up the stairs.

* * *

Jim had hoped that having take-out, a treat for the boys when they were with him, although he knew the rest of the time they probably ate far more take-out than was good for them, would relax them and reinstate the easy familiarity they were all more used to. It hadn't worked. Dean and Jordan ate in silence as they had done all week, both boys eating only a fraction of what they normally ate, only Sammy ate normally, but the awkwardness between the older boys was wearing on even him now, as his chatter seemed half-hearted and more of an effort than usual. Jim smiled at him encouragingly, knowing that the youngest Winchester hated arguments and couldn't quite grasp what was going on between his brother and Jordan. There had been no argument, no ill words, for days now, Dean had gone to bed at the same time as his brother, so there was no chance of the boys having argued after he'd gone to sleep.

Jim had tried to talk Dean into staying up later, but each time he just withdrew saying he had studying to do, ready for the next semester at school.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Part Four**_

It was the early hours of the morning when Dean gave up on trying to sleep and climbed out of bed and crossed the room to the window, sparing only a brief glance for his sleeping brother. He shifted the curtain to watch outside but there was no sign of anyone. He thought back over the past few days and all the things that had happened, the deflated tires, the paint, the plants that had been pulled up, the dead animals that he'd found in the garbage can when he was putting the trash out. He hadn't wanted to think too hard about where they might have been left, but he figured the Pastor would rather not talk about them.

He examined each piece of information, trying to make sense of it, trying to make a bigger picture when all of a sudden the answer came to him . . . He controlled the urge to rush and tell the Pastor what he'd worked out. He thought about it some more. He shivered in the cool night air but still didn't return to his bed. Instead he took a deep breath ready to face what he knew he needed to do.

He slipped silently on bare feet across the room to the door, opening it carefully and slipping a few feet down the hall to the room in which Jordan was now sleeping. He bit his lip anxiously outside the closed door. Should he knock? Could he slip in and wake Jordan like he used to when they were in the same room? What was the right thing to do now that they weren't friends any more? Dean loathed the fact that he'd ruined his one and only friendship and didn't know how to fix it, but this was different, this was about the Pastor. Jordan would understand, Dean knew that. Jordan knew how important the Pastor was. Jordan was the one person that Dean had been able to confide in; Sammy was too young to understand how Dean felt when Dad disappeared for days or weeks at a time, leaving him to look after them both, but Jordan understood for the most part.

He reached for the door handle and turned it slowly, opening the door a fraction and sliding through the gap before closing the door behind him. He crossed to the bed and dropped to his knees beside Jordan, whispering the older boy's name urgently.

Jordan's eyes opened and focussed on him immediately, already beginning to push himself upright, "Dean? Are you alright?" Jordan swung his feet out of the bed, eyes roaming in the dark over his companion to check he was alright.

"I – I need to talk to you."

"Dean, I'm so sorry, I wish I could take it all back and you'd forgive me for what happened," Jordan rushed the words out, surprised as Dean looked at him amazed.

"You do?" he murmured, "You don't think it was all my fault and – and . . ."

Jordan reached out to stop his words, "No! None of it was your fault, I should have been looking out for you." Jordan saw as Dean shivered again in the cool air and pulled him up from the floor to sit beside him on the bed, throwing the top layer of covers over him before pulling some of the others back over himself and leaning back against the wall. "Was that what you wanted to talk about?" Jordan focussed intently on Dean's face, if there was one thing he'd learnt in the years that he and Dean had stayed up late chatting, it was that if you could watch his face and eyes, you could read a lot more of what he was saying and then you could gauge your reaction accordingly. He remembered the first time they'd sat like this, Dean had only been six and he himself had been ten.

_Dean had been almost silent then, John had brought the boys to stay with the Pastor after finally admitting that he had to do something about the fact that Dean would barely talk and that when he did, he had developed a stutter. Pastor Jim had talked John into staying for almost six months, long enough to try and give Dean enough of a sense of security that they hoped with help from a speech therapist he might begin to talk again and that with less stress around him speaking so the stutter would vanish. Jordan remembered how frustrated John had been with the repetition of boring sounds and words ad nauseam, how he snapped and shouted at Dean to concentrate and control his breathing to get it right. Jordan hadn't understood how John could have been so angry when anyone could see how hard Dean was trying to make his Dad pleased with him. Eventually John had slammed the book he'd been following to explain what to do to Dean on to the table. Dean had suddenly rushed from the room and John had sighed and thumped a fist down, before pushing his own chair back and starting for the door. He'd followed Dean up the stairs to the room the boys were sleeping in and Jordan had no idea what had gone on then, but he'd reappeared a few minutes later and slumped back at the table. Jordan remembered that he himself had stayed silent, unnoticed as the Pastor had stopped what he was doing to sit and talk to John. The Pastor, the voice of reason for the adults and the boys as they'd grown, he'd always seemed to see through to the essence of the problem. "John, you have to ease up on him. I know you're worried, but seriously, Dean is doing the best he can." Jordan had listened as the two men had discussed the matter before finally coming to a decision that the Pastor would take over the work with Dean, that John would relax and do 'fun' things with him. Jordan didn't remember the 'fun' things being quite what he expected and with hindsight, he figured that Pastor Jim probably hadn't meant the training either._

_He'd been surprised when the Pastor had suddenly called to him, but he'd stepped forward hesitantly until the Pastor had smiled and said reassuringly, "Jordan is going to help to, aren't you? Jordan is going to chat to Dean all the time when they're doing their chores and when they're playing, right Jordan? He's going to help Dean look out for Sammy so he can chat to them both then too. Dean is Jordan's friend and friends help one another out."_

_Jordan hadn't forgotten that feeling, like the Pastor had given him the one thing he wanted most in the world, a friend. It hadn't been that long ago that his own family had been torn apart. The death of one of his older brothers because of something the eldest of his brothers had been involved with, he didn't really understand then, but he and his Dad had hit the road to try and track his brother. They'd left behind his mother and two younger sisters and hadn't seen them in almost a year. He'd lost most of his family, his home, school and friends, the time they spent with Pastor Jim was the nearest to normal he'd had in what seemed like forever. He'd resigned himself to being different for the rest of his life, to being alone in a world of grown men who were tormented by loss and obsessed by grief and revenge and now in the midst of all that, the Pastor was offering him a friend, a friend who would understand, a friend for whom he didn't have to make up a story about his own life, a friend whose life was the same. _

Jordan waited, like he'd done for so long. The Pastor had explained back when they were kids that Dean would need a bit longer than other people to be able to get the words out so people could understand him and that if Jordan didn't rush him, they'd be more likely to come out right. Over the years, it had just become habit. Dean didn't stutter anymore but he still sometimes seemed to need longer than other people to get his head round what he wanted to say.

"Things keep going wrong here," Dean said first, eyes flicking up waiting for Jordan to acknowledge the truth in them. "The paint, the tires . . . there were dead animals in the trash can, I think the Pastor cleared them up so we wouldn't see them." He paused, then started again, "I didn't tell the Pastor but someone pulled out all the potatoes – I just replanted them; you think they'll be okay? I didn't want him to worry. I – I – I was wrong I should have told him. Maybe if I'd told him, there wouldn't have been the paint today."

"Nah. I think someone is just a bastard and they're targeting the Pastor. It could be someone who doesn't like his being a preacher."

Dean shook his head, then scrunched his face up like he was thinking and weighing up whether to voice his thoughts or not. "It . . ." He started and stopped, bringing a finger up to his mouth to gnaw on the nail anxiously. Jordan knocked the hand away without thinking about it, like he'd done a hundred times before and wondered whether he was still allowed to do it, since they hadn't really fixed their falling out properly or maybe they hadn't actually fallen out, they'd just both assumed they had. "Brandon," Dean said carefully.

Jordan's eyes widened in shock at the thought, before he nodded in agreement that yeah, Dean was probably right. "Brandon," he agreed.

"What do we do?" Dean whispered.

"Well, we could tell the Pastor," Jordan said half-heartedly, "Or we could lay a trap for him. He's too stupid to think we'd work out it was him, so he won't be expecting anything." Dean nodded at the second suggestion.

"So any ideas?" Jordan asked. "Probably too late for tonight, unless we're just going to hang out until he comes and try and catch him doing something, but if we want it to be more . . . more . . . if we wanna be clever, we need some time to think about it."

"We should think . . . just catching him isn't enough. He was doing bad stuff to the Pastor!" Dean's voice made it clear just how bad that was in his estimation.

"Yeah," Jordan agreed wholeheartedly.

There was an awkward pause with the decision made to give the matter more thought but neither boy quite sure where that left them both in the meantime. In the end it was Jordan who broke the silence, "Dean. . . are we gonna be okay? Friends, I mean, you and me? Can we be friends again?"

Dean chewed on his lip anxiously, before he nodded and Jordan could see in his eyes all the words he couldn't bring himself to say. Eventually, he said quietly, "Yeah, friends again. It would be better, things would be better if we were." Jordan exhaled loudly in relief and Dean nodded before standing and giving a tentative smile, he said, "I'll see you in the morning for a run?"

Jordan beamed, "Bright and early, and I'll hand you your ass on a plate, dude!"

"Like hell you will!" It lacked some of their usual vehemence but both boys were reassured that they were heading in the right direction together as friends again.

* * *

Dean had been up and ready to go running earlier than usual, the Pastor knew the boy never shirked on his training, wouldn't let his father down willing, but despite being ready he wasn't leaving the house yet. Instead he was almost bouncing off the walls with some sort of barely contained energy, the sort that he hadn't shown any sign of since the problems with Jordan began.

A minute or two more passed and Jim decided that he was going to talk to Dean about it, see if he could work out what was going on with the young teen. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, he heard footsteps on the stairs too heavy for Sam and saw what had been missing for the last week or two, Dean's eyes looking almost eager, expectant. As Jordan entered the room, he said, "Mornin' Pastor," yawning before his eyes settled on Dean and he smiled. "Hey Deano, you ready to go?" Jim felt a gush of air escape him in relief and happiness that the boys were talking again. At some point between them going to bed last night and getting up this morning, the world had righted and the boys were going to be okay.

"You're going running this morning?" he asked with a warm smile.

"Yeah," Jordan confirmed. "Someone's got to give Deano a run for his money and Sammy ain't got the legs for it yet!" He laughed before adding, "We might be a while, if that's okay with Dean, I figure we could do a longer run, you know make up for lost time, if that's okay?"

Dean's smile was smaller, but the spark in his eyes made it clear that he was genuinely happy with the suggestion.

"Take as long as you want. Are you going to work today, Jordan?" Much as he wanted the boys to have the time to fix their problems, knew they needed their friendship, he didn't want Jordan to think work could just be abandoned at the drop of a hat. He knew that it was hard on the boys when they weren't getting the solid role models of other teens, fathers who worked odd jobs at best, frequently hustling for money. The Pastor considered it his responsibility to try and ensure that they learnt about responsibility and legal ways of earning a living.

"Oh sh-!" he cut himself short. "I was meant to tell you when I got back yesterday, but 'cause of the paint and everything, I forgot! Frank's wife was having the baby yesterday, he got a call late in the afternoon. He said before he left that he wanted me to finish up what I was doing, but not to go in today because he wouldn't be there. He says I'm doing okay but he doesn't want the others supervising me and telling me what to do. He doesn't pay them for that and he'd rather I take the time off until he's back at work. He said he'd call here when I could go back again, said it'd only be a couple of days. I tried to talk him into letting me go in, but . . ."

"That's fine," the Pastor reassured. He felt a vague sense of irritation at Frank's decision, but in another way he understood it. Frank had agreed to take Jordan on and was paying him well. He treated the boy fairly, but there was always the lingering suspicion. Jim knew the boys faced it when they walked into the stores in town without him, didn't know if they even noticed it. The small town suspicion of strangers aggravated by what the townsfolk had seen of their fathers trying to hustle in the local bars. He'd had more than one argument with all their fathers saying this was the closest the boys had to home so the one rule was don't bring trouble home and hustling on the doorstep was doing exactly that. They'd eased back, Jim wasn't fool enough to think they'd stopped altogether, but it was harder when the locals recognized them, but it had left the boys unaware but fighting through the prejudice against their fathers to be treated fairly. "You boys take as long as you like, Sam and I will find plenty to do. Let me know when you're back and I'll do pancakes for breakfast."

"Cool!" was Dean's answer, the most enthusiasm he'd shown for food in the last two weeks. "Come on then," he said to Jordan, already heading for the door. "You're holding me back, old man!"

Jordan dived after him, laughing , just missing getting a hold of his t-shirt as Dean fled down the porch steps and down the path towards the woods.

* * *

The boys had run out along the usual track for about fifteen minutes before Jordan had gestured to a side path just ahead of them, looking at Dean for long enough to get a nod before they turned that way. Pacing themselves now, they'd chatted about this and that, not touching anything awkward for the first ten minutes or so, now they were just running, in a while, they'd settle into their stride together, comfortable and then they'd start to talk again.

About ten minutes down the track it narrowed and just ahead of the change, Dean dropped behind Jordan to follow him. They would stay like that until it widened out a few minutes later, except just before they entered the clearing at the end of the narrow track, Jordan caught sight of a car, a familiar car. He almost stumbled, but caught himself, instead pulling himself and Dean off the path and into the bushes.

It said a lot for the life they led that Dean's first reaction wasn't to shove him back and assume he was being an asshole but was to reach for the knife he had hidden beneath his t-shirt and to start looking for danger. Jordan clamped down over Dean's hand with the knife to hold it still with one hand as the other came up to put a finger to his own lips to signal silence. Once Dean nodded, he let go and reached round for his own knife and began to creep forward through the undergrowth, quiet and cautious, aware of Dean as he moved at his shoulder.

Dean's eyes widened when he realized what it was that Jordan had seen and he started to stand, ready to head forwards but Jordan held him back. Jordan shook his head, eyes firm and waiting for Dean to silently agree before he let go of the younger boy. He edged round the clearing, looking for any sign of movement in or around the car. Nothing, there was no one there.

Looking back at Dean, he shrugged, nodding once when Dean signalled that he was going to take a closer look. Jordan stayed hidden while Dean approached the car and circled it cautiously, peering inside. No clues. Dean moved to the back of the car and tried the lock on the trunk, momentarily surprised to find it open, then again, its owner never had been that clever. He peered in and saw all he needed as proof to know the truth. With a grim look on his face, he shut the lid and moved away. His eyes lighted on a heavy stone on the path and he bent to pick it up, turning it readying his arm to hurl the stone at a window, surprised when Jordan caught his arm and took the stone from his hand dropping it to the floor and dragging him back into the undergrowth and away from the clearing.

He didn't loosen his grip on Dean until they were ten minutes further down the path, not trusting the younger boy not to just run straight back, pick up the stone and throw it straight through one of the windows. Finally deciding that even if Dean did try to make a run for it he could probably catch him before he got there, he stopped, turned to look at Dean properly and let go.

Dean's face was a picture of fury but he only said one word, "Well?" but Jordan figured one word with that much scorn and derision was probably enough.

"Well, we had a plan and it wasn't just throwing a stone through his window! We're going to make him pay and pay properly for what he's done! That was what _you_ said. Dean, you said we couldn't let him get away with treating the Pastor like that."

Dean let out an angry hmph of air and his expression turned almost petulant before he said, "Fine, but I still don't see why I can't break his window for him!"

"You throw that through his window and he knows we've worked out it's him and where he is, right now, he thinks he's safe, thinks no one knows it's him, so when we want him, we know where to look first."

"I guess," Dean finally accepted with just a hint of reluctance. "I still think he deserves a stone through the window of his car, though."

"Me too, but we know where the car is, we can always get to that bit later!" Jordan reasoned. Dean nodded and turned to walk along the track they were now on, shoulders hunched.

Jordan caught up with him and slung an arm round his shoulder, pulling him closer and saying, "Don't be such a girl! Just 'cause you're not getting your own way now! We'll plan it like you said in the first place."

"He's doing this stuff to Pastor Jim, Jordan! Not just anybody or somebody who doesn't matter, he's doing it to the Pastor!" Dean's voice cracked which only fuelled his anger further as he kicked out at a bush they were passing.

"All the more reason for us to make sure we teach him the perfect lesson," Jordan reassured as Dean sighed again.

They walked on in silence for a while until they came to a large fallen tree, Dean left the path and dropped onto the trunk, leaning over to stretch out his muscles. When Jordan was stood beside him, one leg up on the tree, bending forward to reach his foot, Dean asked, "So what are we going to do then?"

Jordan didn't answer for the moment or two as he finished his stretches before flopping down next to Dean. "We plan and then we teach his sorry ass a lesson he won't forget any time soon - that's what we do," he said firmly. "Now come on, let's head back, the Pastor promised pancakes and I'm off all day so we can really give it some thought and then it'll all be fine." He stood, reaching out to pull Dean back up, "Ready?" At Dean's nod, he smirked and said, "I'll beat you back then lazy ass!" as he set off. Dean was rapidly alongside him and for a few paces they ran smoothly until suddenly with a smirk, Dean jostled Jordan off the edge of the path. "Hey, shortass!" Jordan laughed, staggering before regaining his footing and pursuing Dean. He gave his shoulder a shove as he lengthened his stride and tried to overtake. Dean ran in front of him, making him sidestep, then stopped short so that Jordan had to stop abruptly to avoid running into him. As soon as Jordan had stumbled to a stop, Dean took off again, legs and arms pumping to push him further. "Buttface! I'll get you for that!" Jordan started to run again and it didn't take the two of them long to get back to the house, laughing and jostling one another as they crossed the garden and climbed the steps to the front door.

* * *

As Dean opened the front door, the first thing he was aware of was Sam. Sam was stood in the middle of the room, hands on hips, a picture of indignation, but Dean could see the hurt in his eyes and raced to his side before he noticed the Pastor was glaring down at his brother with his most severe expression. Dean came to a halt just before he reached his brother, eyes flitting anxiously between his brother and the older man. He bit his lip anxiously, unsure what to do now. If it had been his Dad it was easier, he'd just step in, find out what the problem was and either cover for Sam if he could or ease the blame, share it somehow, convince his Dad that it was his fault Sam had done it, but that never seemed to work the same with the Pastor, as if the Pastor knew when Sam had decided to do the wrong thing without Dean having any part of it.

Dean looked back at Jordan for a moment, eyes beseeching help. "Something the matter?" Jordan asked.

"I didn't _do_ it!" Sammy said tersely. "He says I did but I _didn't_!"

"Do what?" Dean's words were clipped, tense and Jordan sighed. Things had started out so well and then Brandon but he'd managed to get them back on track and now this.

"Samuel has been interested in a particular book that I have explained to him he is not yet old enough to read. The book in question is missing, I left it on my table and now it has gone. It was there after you two left to go running and when I came back from the garden where I had been fetching some fruit for our pancakes, the book was gone. As the only person here . . ." the Pastor was sombre as he spoke.

Sam cut him off, "And I told you I _didn't_ do it. I didn't take your book. You told me not to touch it so I didn't. I was upstairs tidying up and getting the washing like you told me. I don't know where your book is but it wasn't me!" With that the ten year old turned and ran up the stairs.

Dean's voice was almost desperate as he said, "He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't take it if you said not to. . . You must have moved it or put it somewhere else or . . .or something. Sammy wouldn't do something like that."

Jordan stepped forward, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder to calm him down before he got himself into trouble with the Pastor as well. "What sort of book is it that you've mislaid?" the eighteen year old asked quietly. "I'm sure Sam wouldn't have taken it on purpose. You let him read lots of your books when he asks." He squeezed his hand to keep Dean quiet, when his friend started as if to interrupt.

"I realize that you all read lots of my books, but you're all also well aware . . . No Dean! You are _all_ well aware, Samuel included, that you ask first and that when I say that a book is not appropriate, then that is not going to change. I am fully aware that Samuel was interested in the book and that I have told him it was not appropriate for him to be reading it at this stage. I would have said the same to both of you as well."

"We're quite capable of looking after ourselves," Dean gritted the words out ignoring both the warning squeeze from Jordan and the reproachful look in the Pastor's eyes. Pulling away from Jordan, he made his way up the stairs to find Sam.

"Sorry," Jordan apologized. "He didn't mean that."

"Jordan, I'm glad the two of you have solved some of your differences but don't think that I'm expecting you to make excuses for him, any more than I'm expecting him to cover up for Sam. I know that all of you are _capable_ of looking after yourselves, doesn't mean that you should have to and Dean knows my feelings on that as well as he knows what I'm saying about the books."

"Which book was it? Maybe I could help look for it?" Jordan offered.

"Thank you. It was the book of rituals for spell-casting, the one with the black leather cover with the red edging and the sort of bronze tone writing. Do you know the one I mean?"

"Yeah, I saw you with it last night. Is that Dad's hunt you're researching?"

"Jordan, no. You know that I help other hunters too. . . that is not your Dad's hunt. He's going to come back safe and sound."

"Yeah, course he is. . . The book . . . the book you don't want us reading it, is that – is that 'cause I'm here? Would you let them look if. . .?"

"Jordan, no I wouldn't. I don't like spell-casting at the best of times. What happened to your brothers, the cult, the spells, that is a good example of why it is a bad thing . . . In honesty, you are of an age where I could teach you about it, we could look into it together, would you want that though? Now Brandon's gone, I would do that with you but I wouldn't have trusted Brandon to be responsible with the knowledge. You, however, you know the cost, you know where spell-casting like this leads." Seeing the teenager wipe a hand across his face, his expression sad and dejected, Jim crossed the room to offer comfort. "You I would trust with this knowledge. Dean and Sam when they are older I would trust but Dean deals with enough already, I don't believe he would misuse the information, but his 'family' make enough demands on him already. If he knew this, John would expect him to hunt more, would leave Sam alone more often. I'm protecting him from that for as long as I can and Sam _is_ too young. He's clever but he – he isn't as aware as yourself and Dean of the implications of temptation and knowledge or the burden that goes with them."

"Should . . . You would . . ." Jordan took a deep breath and tried again, "If I wanted to you would teach me . . ."

"Only _if_ that's what you wanted, Jordan. Not if your father asked me to do it, only if it's what _you_ wanted." The Pastor saw the conflicted emotions in Jordan's face, grief at the loss of both older brothers because one had been involved in some sort of cult which toyed with spell-casting amongst other things. "Jordan, you are not your brother, always remember that," he reassured. "_You_ would not make the mistakes he did."

"No, I wouldn't," he agreed. "I'll go and see if I can find anything out from Sammy and Dean." He walked slowly towards the stairs, turning back just before he began to climb to say, "Thank you, you know, for thinking that I can be different to them."

"I don't _think_ it Jordan, I believe it, I know it. You are not Thomas and you have learnt well, you would not make the same mistakes he did and you are stronger than Mark, more determined, more understanding. You won't make the mistakes either of them did."

Jordan nodded before heading up the stairs to find the Winchester boys. He knocked on the bedroom door before he pushed it open. Sam was lying face down on the bed and Dean was sat behind him, leaning against the footboard trying to reason with his younger brother. "Sammy, do you have any idea where the Pastor might have left the book?" Dean was asking.

'_Subtle'_ Jordan smiled to himself. Dean never ceased to amaze him at how often he managed to get Sam to behave or to do what he was told without the sort of showdown argument Sam had started to have with his father and going by the incident downstairs was contemplating having with the Pastor. He saw Sam's foot lash out in a kick aimed to hit his brother but Dean caught the foot easily, holding it still until Sam gave in, then he dropped it back onto the bed with a pat to the back of Sam's calf. The younger boy rolled onto his side and said, "I didn't touch the book, he said I couldn't so I didn't. I don't know where it is, it wasn't me." As soon as he'd finished speaking, he rolled back onto his front with a groan and buried his head beneath his pillow.

Dean leant forward and patted his back, before tugging the pillow away, "That's okay, Sammy. I'll make sure he knows that he's lost it not you. You wanna do something later on, we could shoot some hoops or something?"

Sam rolled onto his side again, turning his face to look carefully at his brother this time, "You mean it? You wanna do that with me?" When Dean nodded and smiled, Sam said, "And what about Jordan, is he going to come too?"

"I dunno Sammy, you'll have to ask him. He came running with me this morning, so he might be willing to shoot hoops with us this afternoon as well."

Sam's eyes flitted to Jordan in his position at the door, eyebrows lifted expectantly. Jordan didn't move or say anything for a while, then decided teasing was probably a good way to go. "You looking at me for a reason, boy?!"

Sam giggled, "I'm overwhelmed by your awesomeness!"

"Too right you are! Did I hear something about someone needing beating at hoops?"

"Yeah Dean needs his ass licking!" Sam was smiling again. "You gonna help?"

"Of course, I'll help. That boy needs to learn his place!" Jordan smirked at Sam as he walked across the room and shoved Dean off the bed so he could sit down. Sam's eyes widened before he began to laugh, only to squeal when Jordan suddenly tickled him.

"No! No! Stop it, stop it!" Sam laughed as he tried to wriggle free. "Dean! Dean! Help me! Stop it, Jordan! Dean?!" he finished on a particularly high squeal. Dean had picked himself up from the floor and watched for a moment or two before deciding to side with his brother and turning his own attention to trying to tickle Jordan. It wasn't long before all three boys were roughhousing and laughing only to suddenly lose their combined balance on the bed and for all three of them to land in a tangled heap on the floor just as the door opened.

The Pastor stood watching the boys, relieved to see them enjoying themselves despite the missing book, comforted to see the tension gone from the older boys' bodies as the easy friendship returned. Dean suddenly caught sight of him and immediately tried to pull himself free of the tangled heap with apologies quick to his lips and attempts to explain and take the blame. As soon as Jordan realized what he was doing, he stood alongside him, hand on his shoulder to quieten Dean down as he explained that Sam had not taken the book and they just been deciding on teams for a game of hoops that afternoon. Jim was even happier when Jordan asked if the Pastor would like to join in, after all if there were four people it was teams of two.

Jim couldn't fail to agree, the book could be dealt with later, the awe at Jordan's even asking him to join in the game on both Winchester boys' faces showed him how needed that experience was. Jordan had been old enough when his family was torn apart to remember family games, shooting hoops with his Dad and older brothers. It was something the Winchesters had never had, Jim wondered if Dean remembered anything like it from before his mother died. Not that it mattered, it didn't make his need for this any less. "So who's going to be on my team then?" he asked.

The younger boys still stood there agape at the prospect not a word slipping past their lips. Jordan laughed at them before clipping the back of Dean's head with his hand and saying, "Stop catching flies dude! Well, I think I'll take Sam and you and Dean can try to beat us." With a laugh he turned to Sam and said, "Hi-five, little dude!"

Sam was thrilled to be chosen over his brother, not realizing how Jordan was trying to even out the teams as much as possible and with a high five for Jordan, he shouted, "We're gonna win, we're gonna win, 'cause we're awesomer than you!" at his brother, who just smirked back before sticking his tongue out. "Ew! Dean! Gross!" left them all laughing.

"Well, well team-mate," Jim spoke to Dean, "How do you feel about coming down and helping me with those pancakes we were supposed to be having?"

Dean nodded and moved to the Pastor's side before saying, with just a hint of nervousness, "High five team-mate?" and offering up his hand.

* * *

Dean and Jordan were tinkering with the Pastor's car, while he and Sam had walked round to the church to do some of the cleaning jobs that needed doing. Standing back from the car and wiping his oily hands on a rag before wiping the sweat from his forehead, Jordan turned round and leant back against the car, still watching Dean's hands as he worked quick and sure. "You think maybe Brandon broke in and took the book?"

Dean shot up so fast, he almost banged his head on the raised hood, but for Jordan shoving him a step back to save him. "Really?"

"Well, Sammy says he didn't take it, you were with me so neither of us took it and the Pastor has a memory like a bear trap, there's no way he moved the book and forgot about it! Who else is there?"

"But why would he take it? What would he want with one of the Pastor's books? He's never been interested in the research before, never wanted to know how to find stuff out properly. He doesn't help his Dad like that."

Jordan looked at his friend, wondering whether to say what the Pastor had told him about the book. "I'm not sure, we could, you know, finish up here and go have another look round his car, check it out. Take what we need to get into it without him knowing – we need to know what he's planning."

Dean nodded. "We done here?" he asked with a gesture at the engine.

"Yeah, let's clean up, then we can try and get back before Pastor Jim and Sammy." Dean quickly gathered up the tools they'd used dropping them back into the box between them and dropping the lid on them ready to go and pack it away, while Jordan cleared up the rest and dropped the hood. "You wanna grab a shower or. . .?"

"Nah, I'll just get the worst of this off my hands and I'll be good to go. You?" Jordan nodded that he would do the same and within minutes the boys were heading back down the track they'd followed that morning.

They left the path and made their way cautiously through the undergrowth, hiding behind the bushes to watch the car. There was no sign of Brandon and with a nudge from Jordan, Dean began to make his way closer only to suddenly freeze. Jordan's eyes scanned the perimeter of the clearing for whatever had caught Dean's attention. Dean started to retreat back to his side just before Brandon came into view on the far side, coming from the direction of the town. He was swinging a bag from one arm with the logo of the local butcher on it and Dean turned a confused look to Jordan.

"There was no sign of a fire near here this morning, why's he suddenly gonna start cooking now?" Dean whispered. "'s not like him. He's a lazy fucker."

Jordan felt a shiver shoot down his spine and closed his eyes. Dean reached out for him, "Jay, you okay?" he whispered urgently right beside Jordan's ear.

Jordan opened his eyes slowly, seeing Dean's anxious expression right up close. He squeezed Dean's arm, hoping to reassure him, then gestured for them to retreat. The two of them made their way almost silently back from the clearing.

Eventually, Jordan stopped Dean and indicated that he should sit down. He didn't start to speak straight away, taking his time to work out what to say to convey enough without frightening Dean. He turned back and looked at Dean, remembering then as he took in the earnest expression, Dean didn't frighten easily. "Dean . . ." he cleared his throat before trying again. "Dean, the book that's missing . . . it's about blood sacrifices and rituals for spell casting."

Dean looked horrified, before his expression blanked again and then his eyes narrowed, "That's what you think is in the bag? So what kind of spell is he gonna cast?"

"I dunno, Dean. It's a pretty big book and you know . . . I – I've pretty much steered clear of spell stuff, you know." He turned away trying to hold back the emotions that still rose easily to the surface when he thought of his brothers and how they'd both died.

Dean was at his side instantly offering awkward support and Jordan felt the real depth of their friendship in that instant, just how much Dean thought of him. Brothers – in truth he was probably closer to Dean than he ever had been to his older brothers. "Sorry," Dean murmured. "You want me to deal with it?"

Only Dean, Jordan reflected would ever make an offer like that; would lay everything on the line and sacrifice himself without question. "No Dean, we – we have to do it together, but blood rituals and spells, you have to understand they're really dark, really dangerous. Brandon might be incompetent but he probably knows enough to cast the spells and then there could be real trouble. It's evil stuff."

"Can we do this? You and me?"

As Jordan began to speak, Dean suddenly reached up and clamped a hand over his mouth waiting for Jordan to nod that he understood. A moment or two later and Jordan heard as Brandon's foot steps moved further down the path. They were still undiscovered. With a quick hand signal, they made their way back to the car and let themselves into it so they could try and find out exactly what Brandon was up to.

Dean found the book, holding it up for Jordan to see. Jordan took the book away from the younger teen, thinking of what the Pastor had said. "I'll look through and see if he's marked anything." Dean nodded and turned back to his own search. Jordan was relieved that Dean hadn't questioned his explanation, he didn't really want to talk about it all.

"There's nothing else here," Dean said a few minutes later. "You think I should crack open the trunk and see if he's got anything in there? I haven't seen whatever he got at the butchers yet."

"No. I think we should head back to the Pastor's and work out how to stop him."

"Taking the book with us?" Dean asked.

Jordan sighed, he wasn't happy with this situation, wasn't sure that he was making the right decision. "We need to be out of here before he gets back. If we take the book, he knows we know he's here. We have to leave the book, we have to head back and figure this out."

"'k," Dean started to put the back seat of the car back into the same sort of disorder it had been in when they first opened the car, then moving out of the car, he hit the door lock and shut the door. "You ready?" Jordan finished up by throwing the book over the seat to land on the pile of things that Dean had left before doing the same as he exited through the front passenger door.

He looked thoughtful as he followed Dean onto the path that would lead them in the opposite direction to where they had seen Brandon earlier. "You think he's at the Pastor's now?" Dean asked as they grew nearer and so rather than heading straight out of the path, they headed into the undergrowth again so they could watch over the Pastor's property for a while before heading in themselves.

* * *

It had taken them a while to come up with what they thought might be a working solution to the problem. Between them they had gathered everything they needed before heading back out along the path to scout out the best position to set it all up.

"This would be the best position," Jordan said after a while. "We know that Brandon is going to use the track, he's not going to work any harder than he has to and moving through the woods not on the track is hard enough in daylight so he's not gonna be doing it at night. The track is narrowest at this point which means we know he's going to pass over this bit, not like where it's wider and he could be anywhere."

"Jay, the area round here though . . . You're not going to fit behind any of these bushes and I'm gonna be so cramped up to be hidden that I'm not going to be able to move quick enough to trigger the trap. The only person who's gonna fit is Sammy."

"Shit! Okay, we need to rethink this."

Dean shook his head, "No, Sammy can do it, I trust him to be able to do it, but . . . but we have to be sure that Brandon's not going to be able to do anything to hurt him. Brandon's not gonna be able to cast any spells or shit, I can't let Sammy get hurt."

"_We_ can't let Sammy get hurt! I promise Dean, we'll think this through and make sure it's safe or we don't do it. You both have to be safe, I won't let either of you get hurt," Jordan assured.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Part Five**_

Sam was hidden beneath a bush holding the end of a tethered rope, still and silent despite all his urges to move and talk. He'd got a walkie talkie in his hand, in case he'd got a real problem, but he wasn't supposed to use it just because he was bored. He also knew that his brother and Jordan weren't that far away and both of them had got his back covered, literally and figuratively as the Pastor would say. They'd hear any sound he made, knowing Dean he'd be able to tell if Sam had even moved to make sure he didn't get cramp.

When Dean had suggested this it had sounded exciting and like he was doing something really important, but right now it was just plain old boring. He slowed his breathing down and tried to crane his ears in the hope of hearing something, anything, his brother. Nothing, there was absolutely nothing. Dean had promised he wouldn't have gone far away, he'd know if Sam needed him.

There was a sudden very quiet beep of the walkie talkie in front of him. Sam looked at it and heard Dean's voice, "You're okay, Sammy. Just keep still and keep watching. I'm pretty sure it won't be much longer now. Don't worry, I've got your back, dude." The radio fell silent again. Sam knew better than to respond if he didn't have a problem, but he found himself settling again, less worried by having to keep still. Dean was still looking out for him.

"On the way, Sammy," it was Jordan's voice this time a few minutes later. "Stay alert, buddy." Sam was half-inclined to sigh that Jordan would think he wouldn't be alert. Dean would know better, Sam wasn't going to just fall asleep on the job like Jordan seemed to expect.

He heard the crunch of footsteps approaching on the track, saw the flick-flick-flick of a flashlight being swung from side to side, back and forth illuminating the way. Brandon! It wasn't that difficult to work out. For a start neither Jordan nor Dean would make that much noise on the track and they'd both have a better flashlight, same as Sam did. Dad always said that there were some things you didn't buy cheap to try and save money and like weapons, a flashlight was one of them. Dad said you buy one with a good solid beam and you make sure the batteries are fresh any time you're going to be relying on it to see where you are going, then as you were walking at night, you kept it pointed down making sure where you were going to put your feet was clear and sound ground. You only raise it when you want to dazzle something coming out of the dark or when you want to illuminate something in particular.

Swinging your flashlight from side to side like Brandon was doing just made it easier for other people or whatever to see you. Prey to a clever predator. Although watching Brandon, Sam figured the predator didn't need to be that clever, he could just follow his brother's instructions and lie under a bush with a rope and hey. . . he yanked on the rope watching as the loop tightened round Brandon's ankle before suddenly whisking him up into the air, leaving him hanging upside down with . . . with . . . Sam flicked on his own flashlight now as he heard Dean and Jordan both approaching. . . Sam moved closer trying to see what the red stuff Brandon had down his chest and covering his hands and face was.

"Sammy, just watch yourself, okay? Don't get too close!" Dean said as he came to rest alongside Sam. "Good job!" Sam felt a wave of pride sweep over him with his brother's words.

He flicked his flashlight up into the air, half looking at the red stuff that was still spreading and dripping, half just wanting to dazzle Brandon. He saw as some sort of cup-like container dropped from Brandon's grasp to the floor and he flicked his flashlight to the floor before starting to step forward to see what it was. "No, Sam! Leave it!" Dean's voice was sharp and Sam looked up at his brother's face.

The shock over, Brandon was starting to shout out a stream of obscenities, which the three boys just stood and watched until he seemed to run out of breath. Then Jordan said, "What shall we do with him now?"

"Could poke him with a stick I guess," was Dean's answer. Sam looked at his brother this time in surprise, Dean hated being pushed around by bullies like Brandon and would always try and stand his ground even when they were bigger than him, thought little of knocking them out if he could, but Sam had never known him actually consider doing something like this. It was a little unsettling and Sam wasn't sure what to do about it.

"There's stones and stuff around," said Jordan, "We could throw them at him too."

"Fuck you both, bitches," Brandon gasped out.

Dean and Jordan just burst out laughing before Jordan said, "Where's the book, Brandon? You got it there with you?"

"Fuck off!"

"We're not going anywhere . . . although you know what Dean, we could go and we could leave him here. . . Like that idea, fucker?" he finished with his attention back on Brandon. "Think you can get free before it's too late?"

Dean took a step back away from Brandon, pulling Sam with him as Brandon attempted to lash out at any of them. He slid his arms over Sam's shoulders, clasping his own hands together over his brother's chest as if to keep him safe. He dragged Sam back another few paces, leaving Jordan to deal with Brandon now.

Sam twisted slightly, mouth already open to object to the threats. He hated Brandon, but this wasn't right. They should tell the Pastor that he was still here, even though the Pastor had said he had to go. "Sssh a minute, Sammy, trust me," Dean said before Sam could say anything.

"It's Sam, not Sammy," he said to say something and try and feel in control of some part of the situation. Dean grinned at him affectionately and ruffled his brother's hair.

"There's the fucking book, now let me down!" Brandon let a book drop from the bag that was entangled round him. "Let me the fuck down or I'll have your nuts on a plate, Jordan!"

"Nope, but hey, thanks for the book," was Jordan's response, before he turned his back and walked over to join Dean and Sam. "Good job, Sam! We couldn't have caught him without you. Need you to do something else though, I need you to go get the Pastor and call the police, fucker's going down for what he's done to the Pastor."

"What's he done?" Sam asked nervously.

"All that shit that we thought was vandals, it was Brandon, the paint and stuff, the tires."

"Seriously! He did that to the Pastor?!" When his brother agreed, Sam turned his attention back to the boy suspended in the air. "You are a fucking moron, Brandon. The Pastor's good, he doesn't deserve what you did, monkey breath."

Dean and Jordan only just managed to hide their snorts of laughter at Sam's indignant insult behind their hands before Sam's attention was back on them. "You want me to go back to the house and get the Pastor, right? On my own?"

"Only if you're okay with it, Sam," Dean assured him. "I'll come with you if you want though."

"No, I can do it and call the police."

Just as Sam headed off down the track, Dean called softly, "Sammy, flashlight down and steady, make sure you don't go off the track!"

He looked back at his brother, ready to retort and remind his brother he was ten now and not a baby, when he saw how anxious Dean looked about letting him go at all and so instead he said, "Sure, I remember. You taught me so I won't forget." Dean bit his lip but didn't reply so Sam just gave a smile, wave and then turned back and started a steady jog along the track towards the house.

"Let me down, fuckers! You think the Pastor is going to do anything, he's just a feeble-minded old man who forgives everyone everything so whatever you think might be about to happen. . . you're going to be wrong!"

"Shut up, Brandon!" Jordan said, his tone bored as if he wasn't interested in Brandon at all. He turned his back on the suspended young man and focused instead on Dean, "Sam will be fine, it won't take him long to get back and then the Pastor will be with him on the way back." Dean nodded and then silence fell as they waited on Sam's return broken only by intermittent outbursts from Brandon.

* * *

Jordan and Dean didn't have to wait long for the Pastor to return led by Sam. "Boys! What exactly is going on?" the Pastor demanded as soon as he caught sight of Brandon, still hanging from the tree.

"They're fucking bastards that's what they are," Brandon spat out.

"Get him down. Now!" the Pastor said calmly but firmly. Neither of the teens would have dreamt of objecting and they worked swiftly to get Brandon down, but they made sure that he couldn't run away. Even as he reached forward to start undoing the ropes around his ankles, Jordan slapped his hands away, instead starting to wrap one of the ropes around Brandon's torso. "Jordan! You'd better have a really good explanation for this. Stop!"

"Told you," Brandon muttered with a sneer barely audible even to the two boys beside him.

Jordan held him still as best as he could, while turning to speak to the Pastor. "He's to blame for the paint and the tires . . ."

"And the potatoes in the garden and the dead animals . . ." Dean added urgently.

"Dean . . ." Dean turned his attention back to Jordan. "Give the Pastor the book. I've got him, he's not going anywhere."

Dean stood up, crossed the track to the other side before bending and picking up the book in question and heading back to give it to the Pastor, who looked down with interest. His eyes suddenly snapped back up to Dean, who just gave a nod. He then looked at the book and realized exactly which book it is. "How did you get this, Brandon?"

"Who said it was mine?" he asked sullenly.

"I know it isn't yours. I said how did _you_ get this?" Brandon struggled against Jordan trying to get free, but ignored the Pastor's question. The Pastor frowned. "You broke into my house and stole from me. What did you want with this?"

Jim put a hand on Dean's shoulder moving him round to stand beside his brother. "What – did – you – want – with – this – book – Brandon?" he asked again.

Brandon sneered at the Pastor, "What would you know about anything?"

Jordan jerked his arms tighter, reminding the older boy that he was not in a position of strength. Dean moved Sam further away, biting his own lip as he watched what was happening.

"Do you want me to call the police, Brandon?"

The young man laughed, "Yeah, fine, Jim. You do that and I'll tell them about how a Pastor has a load of books about demons and spells and crap, oh and how about I tell them about all the guns and knives and shit? They'd love that!"

The Pastor just nodded, "Maybe. So you understand that in that case, I can't let you go. What happens from here on is a direct result of your choices, Brandon. You have been given chances, offered support, given alternatives. You have persistently ignored the help offered. Your father is already on his way, he'll be here in a few hours."

"Fuck you! You don't know what it's like to be the son of a hunter!"

"No? I wouldn't be too sure about that if I were you and don't think that you can use that as an excuse. There are three examples of hunters' sons right here in front of you and every single one of them makes me proud to know them. You don't." The Pastor looked at Jordan, "You have hold of him? I'm going to tie his wrists. Then we'll take him back to the house and wait for his father." Jordan nodded.

As the Pastor began to tie Brandon's wrists, he felt the slip of something moist and sticky on the young man's wrists and hands. "Dean, shine that flashlight this way." As Dean started to step forward, he spoke more sharply, "No! You stay there with Sammy. Just shine your light this way."

The Pastor sighed as he took in the expression on Dean's face, seeing his arm tighten protectively around his brother, lip already swollen from where he'd been chewing on it. He looked down at Brandon's hands for confirmation of what he'd really hoped wasn't true. "Idiot!" he muttered. The last thing the younger boys and Jordan needed was this. He tied off the rope and hauled Brandon to his feet. "Jordan, undo his feet, so he can walk."

As soon as Brandon's feet were untied, Jordan straightened up and the Pastor could see the detached expression on his face. Without preamble, Jim tugged at Brandon's tied arms setting him in motion along the track towards the house. He was tempted to send Jordan back with Sam and Dean and leaving him to deal with Brandon alone but he couldn't risk Brandon getting away. "Dean, you and Sam walk ahead back to the house. I want you both to go and get washed up quickly and get ready for bed. Dean, carry the book for me. When you get back, please put it on my desk in the study."

He felt as Brandon stumbled against him, looking at the expression on Jordan's face he was pretty sure that Jordan had deliberately jostled against Brandon. What he wanted to do right now was deal with Jordan and the memories and emotions that this would be roiling up inside him but he couldn't deal with that until he'd finished with Brandon.

It didn't take them long to get back and as they entered the house, Jim could hear the sounds of the younger boys upstairs. He led the way to the cellar, dragging Brandon with him. He shoved Brandon through the door, closing and locking it behind him before turning his attention to Jordan and seeing the blood that coated his hands, face and the front of his clothes. "I think you should go and take a shower and get clean, then come down and I'll see you in the kitchen."

Jordan nodded abruptly and turned away but not before Jim had seen the barely held back emotions. "I'll be fine," the teenager said, "I'll just clean up and then I'll get some sleep."

"Jordan . . ." the Pastor started only to be cut off.

"Please . . . I – I don't want to talk about it, I don't."

Jim crossed the room, putting an arm round Jordan's shoulder and squeezing gently, "You know where I am, any time, come and get me, Jordan. You don't have to bottle this inside, when you're ready, I'm here. I know how difficult this will have been."

"I – I don't want to know about spell-casting, I don't want you to teach me that!" Jordan suddenly blurted out.

"Then I won't, now isn't the time if you don't want it," Jim reassured. "It was an option, Jordan, never an obligation. You have made me proud today, you could have told me earlier and I'd have helped but you've made me proud."

"He'd have run, we had to trap him or he'd have run! Then we'd have had to start again and he'd have had the book and I - I couldn't let him have the book, I couldn't."

"Jordan, I know. Now are you okay? Did you get hurt at all?" The teen shook his head before looking down at the bloodstains on his front and hands. He gave a full-body shiver before starting to pluck at the fabric as if he'd be able to lift the bloodstains off and it would be all over.

Jim sighed and guided Jordan up the stairs and into the bathroom, where he turned on the shower and let it start to warm up. "Jordan I'm going to get you some of your clothes, then I want you to shower and change. Let me have these and I'll get rid of them." Jordan gave a shaky nod as he began to undo the buttons on his shirt cautiously.

The Pastor crossed the hall swiftly to Jordan's room to fetch clothes, all the time contemplating the life that these boys were leading, a life that meant they knew about spells and rituals and blood sacrifices, that they knew how to lay a trap and secure someone so they couldn't escape. He'd seen the way Jordan had tied Brandon and knew that Brandon had stood no chance of escape, even in the flashlight he'd been able to tell that until the boys had been willing to let him down Brandon would have remained suspended from the tree, and yet these were not bad boys, they were not trouble makers. They owned far more knives between them and knew how to handle them, than Jim could ever want them to, yet he knew not one of them had chosen to be like this. They were good boys and they were paying a price that should never have been demanded of them.

He set the clothes inside the bathroom with another reassurance for Jordan who was pulling off his shoes by that time, looking younger than Jim had seen in a long time. "I'm going to check on Dean and Sammy, just call if you need anything," he reminded the teen.

As he opened the door to the other bedroom, he found Dean sitting beside his brother who was already tucked back into bed and Dean was reading to him, some adventure book or other they'd found at the library. It wasn't something that Dean did as often now as he had when Sam had been younger, but there were still times when he would, seemingly without thinking about it, do something which would surround his younger brother in a world which was almost normal, almost right. Nights when Sam couldn't sleep or was anxious about John being away too long or when settling in at yet another new school and trying not to stand out was proving too hard, then Dean would spend extra time with him, sacrificing his own homework or free time to support his brother. They were good boys.

Jim crossed the room and sat down on the edge of Dean's bed to watch the two boys for a few minutes. Dean stopped reading at the end of the chapter and said, "We only wanted to stop him doing all that stuff to you. He shouldn't have been doing it. We didn't know about the . . . the blood and stuff before. When you said about the book this morning, we didn't know and we'd only just seen the car." There was a pause before he said, "I'm sorry if I let us do the wrong thing."

Jim saw as Sam's hand sneaked out from below the covers to grasp his brother's as if to say that they were in it together. They were good boys, Jim said to himself again. "You have nothing to worry about. I'm proud of you all and I'm grateful to you all for your loyalty and your sense of wanting to help. . . Are the two of you alright?"

"We didn't get hurt, I wouldn't . . ."

"Dean, it's fine. I just wanted to check that you were both okay. If there's anything you need or anything you want to talk about, come and talk to me. Once Jordan's in bed, then I'm going to head to bed myself, but if you want anything come and get me."

"We're fine." The Pastor was surprised but also pleased when it was Sam that spoke. "We'll look out for each other."

"That's good and it doesn't stop you coming for me too." He wasn't sure whether the night's events would cause either of these boys nightmares. As far as he knew they had no experience of spell-craft, which was a good thing. They had plenty of nightmares of their own without adding the kinds of thing that Jordan had seen to them.

As he left the room, he saw Jordan had put his clothes outside the bathroom so he picked them up and took them downstairs, checking them over, he decided to wash through the jeans and sneakers but to throw away the shirt and t-shirt which were blood-soaked. He wasn't sure that he would ever get the blood out completely and he wasn't going to have Jordan reminded of his brothers' deaths every time he saw the clothes. Tomorrow he would go and buy replacements.

Finally unable to put it off any longer, he went to check on Brandon. Opening the cellar cautiously, he walked down the stairs and found Brandon sat on a broken chair on the far side of the room, hands still tied behind him. "You want to talk to me now?" he asked.

Brandon looked at him and shrugged.

"Why, Brandon? Why did you do that?"

"Why not?" the young man sneered. "You're weak, old man. Pathetic. You thought you could throw me out, so you needed to be taught a lesson."

"And what lesson have I learnt from this, Brandon?" Jim asked calmly.

"That I won't be dictated to by some poxy priest!"

"Right . . . Actually, I've learnt that you can't be trusted, that you are a thief, a vandal and above all else an idiot. _You_ are a hunter's son, whether you like it or not, that is a fact. Any hunter's son should know better than you. You do not mess with spells and rituals; there is no excuse for it, Brandon. You are not that stupid."

"I don't care what you think!"

"Fine. It doesn't actually change anything. You're staying here in the cellar until your father gets back and then you're going with him." As the Pastor stood and started to move away, he looked back sadly, "You had so many opportunities, Brandon and you threw them all away because you are idle, selfish and you lack self-motivation to achieve something with your life. You were fortunate, your father kept you in one school for your whole school career, you had a home, you had opportunities to _not_ be a hunter. You have always treated the boys badly, bullied them. You have never appreciated how little they had by comparison with you, you have always been obsessed by the things you didn't get. They did not have any of those things; no home; continually moving school; the clothes on their back are about their only possessions, yet everyone of them is a better person than you, every one of them has made more of their life, their opportunities. You are a sad excuse for a human being, Brandon and I hope for your sake that you change." With that he walked back to the stairs, climbed them and locked the door behind him as he left, hoping for the boys' sake as much as his own that Brandon didn't decide to create a racket and keep them all awake all night.

He climbed the stairs back up to the bedrooms, relieved to see the bathroom door open. He looked down at his own clothes, deciding to shower and change quickly before heading into check on Jordan.

* * *

Three days had passed, Brandon was long gone with his father and things were settling into the usual routine again. The Pastor was relieved to see that the three boys still in his care were getting along well. The older two were running together daily and both were finding the time to shoot hoops and play ball with Sam.

Dean was still going up with Sam each night when he got ready for bed and reading to him, although once Sam was asleep, he would come back down for a while. Jim was sure that it was Dean's way of reassuring his brother that they were safe and all was well.

Jim hadn't failed to notice that Jordan's appetite was less and that he had bags below his eyes. He'd caught Dean watching his friend as well as if he too was worrying but wasn't sure how to fix it.

* * *

It was late . . . or early depending on how you looked at it, Jordan supposed. He was lying in bed, chilled from the cooling sweat of yet another nightmare. It had been so close, Brandon had been willing to risk everything, just like his brother. The thought of Sam or Dean dead because of Brandon's stupidity and Jordan's inability to protect them properly had woken him every night since, left him lying in the dark alone and frightened.

Dean and Sam were like brothers, but this time rather than being the youngest and not expected to do anything, he was the eldest, he was supposed to be responsible, to keep them safe. He rolled over, freeing a hand to wipe the tears that threatened from his eyes. Brandon . . . he could have cost Jordan everything.

He shot up at the sound of the door opening, heard the soft pad of bare feet across the floor, recognized it as Dean before he could even make out his shadowy outline in the dark. "Dean?" he said quietly.

"Yeah, it's me. You okay?" Dean whispered back.

Jordan leant over to flick on the light beside the bed, blinking rapidly in the sudden light before he could focus on Dean. "Course I'm okay, dude, why wouldn't I be?"

"You're awake and you shouldn't be. You should be asleep now, dude," Dean replied simply.

"Could say the same to you, Deano," Jordan gave a half smile.

Dean flopped down on the end of the bed, before shifting over to lean back against the wall, crossing his legs in front of him. "You're not sleeping well. You having nightmares?"

Jordan smiled. How often had he asked Dean the same? How often had he sat in the semi-dark and listened as Dean talked about the nightmares that kept him awake after he'd spent weeks alone with his brother with no adult to take care of them. "You channelling someone there, Dean?"

"If you want it to be that, then sure. Otherwise, I'm just looking out for my friend, like he looks out for me." Dean looked down at his hands resting on his knees. Even in the dim light, Jordan could see the flush of embarrassment on Dean's cheeks.

"Thanks dude. You're right, I guess I'm not sleeping so well." Jordan looked away towards the window for a few moments, appreciating Dean's silence, his willingness to wait. "The Pastor's book was a spell-casting book," he said, his eyes intent on Dean waiting for some sort of reaction. Dean just nodded. "Okay, so spells and shit, that's um . . ." Jordan swallowed, closing his eyes for a moment trying to gather the strength to tell Dean the rest. "That's what my brother got mixed up in, that's why both my brothers are dead."

Dean didn't say anything, but he moved one hand from his own knee to rest over Jordan's. It took Jordan a little while before he was able to continue. "I keep dreaming that I fucked up that you or Sam got hurt."

"We didn't. We're fine." Dean said simply. "You're the one who got hurt."

Jordan shook his head, not meeting Dean's eyes this time. "You got hurt here," Dean said calmly, pointing at Jordan's heart. "You're worrying about something that didn't happen, you always tell me that once something's in the past, I might be able to learn from it but I can't change it. You can't change what happened; you can't make it any better than it already is. Brandon fucked up, you didn't."

"Dean. . ." Jordan's voice choked up. "I keep dreaming that you got hurt, like my brother and I wake up and I can't get rid of that image in my head."

Dean seemed to think for a beat or two before, he said, "Then you should come and sleep next door with us again. Every time you dream something bad, you can open your eyes and see, we're fine, nobody fucked up, nobody got hurt." With that Dean stood and turned to pull Jordan up from the bed, dragging him back into the room they had shared before.

He dragged his friend to Sam's bed first, whispering, "See, Sammy's fine, sleeping like a baby." He smiled at Jordan before adding, "or better than a baby actually, 'cause when he was a baby he didn't sleep for shit!"

Then he pushed Jordan over to the empty bed below the window, "There ya go and I'll be right over there. You have another nightmare and you check on us and you see we're good."

It sounded so simple, so plausible, Jordan wanted life to still be that simple. He shifted round so he could pull the covers over himself and lay down. He saw Dean settle on his side facing Jordan. Dean grinned then closed his eyes, leaving the light beside him on, so that the room was dimly lit, enough for Jordan to be able to check on them both easily.

Jordan closed his eyes and for the first time since the night with Brandon, he didn't see his brothers dead or Dean and Sammy dying, he saw Dean grinning at him from the other bed and Sammy asleep, curled round his pillow, looking as innocent and unmarked as a ten year old should.

* * *

Jordan woke with a jerk, the familiar nightmare encroaching onto his sleep again. He cast his eyes over to the other beds and saw Dean and Sammy still sleeping soundly and found his heartbeat easing, himself already drifting back to sleep now he knew they were safe.

* * *

Jim got up early. The house was still quiet. He rose and took a walk along to Jordan's room. He was worried about how little the eighteen year old had been sleeping. He pushed the door cautiously to find the bed empty and sighed, wishing it was easier to help.

He walked along to the second room, edging the door open to see inside. Sam looked up at him and grinned from where he was sat on his bed reading. Sam put his finger to his lips for quiet as the Pastor took another step forward and saw that the other two beds were filled and that both Dean and Jordan were sleeping soundly.

As he felt himself relaxing at the view before him, movement caught his eye as Sam slid silently from his bed and padded across the room to him. They left the room and headed downstairs together.

Heading into the kitchen, Sam sat at his usual place, putting his book on the table in front of him as the Pastor poured two glasses of juice from the fridge. "Dean talked Jordan into moving back in with us. He said he thought it might help Jordan sleep better."

"It looks like he was right, Sammy."

"Sam, not Sammy anymore, remember. Things are going to be better now, aren't they?"

"They are Sam, they are," Jim agreed. "Your Dad and Jordan's are both due back in two weeks', so that leaves us enough time to rest, relax and finish that vegetable garden."

"Urgh! I hate gardening."

* * *

By the time the two older boys appeared downstairs, the Pastor had already started breakfast. He was pleased to see them both looking more rested and relaxed, watched as Jordan ruffled Sam's hair on the way to his seat, while Dean jogged Sam's elbow as he sat down, making him drop his book. Sam frowned at his brother, the frown turning to laughter as Dean pulled a face.

Jim watched them all with affection, reflecting that these boys were the hope for the future, the real hope of staving off the evil that was coming. His role now was to protect and prepare them for that future as best he could.

* * *

_**Author's Note: ** So that is the story completed. I hope you enjoyed it. Constructive feedback would be appreciated. Thanks for taking the time to read this. _


End file.
